A Question Of The Soul
by C7
Summary: A very old story.  Just putting it here as an off site archive.
1. Chapter 1

Nick and company don't belong to me. They belong to Sony. I'm just borrowing

them for this little tale. The rest of the characters are mine.

This is a third season story that takes place between the eps "Games Vampires Play" and "Human Factor".

A Question of the Soul

by

C7

He stared up at the bulging shelves of the store, feeling overwhelmed and confused. The toys stretched as far as the eye could see. There were trucks, cars and motorcycles of all kinds and sizes. There were board games, electronic games and dolls.

_What's a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?_

He picked up a baseball and tossed it in the air as a smile touched his mouth. Elliot loved going to watch the Blue Jays play. Maybe he would like... Nick shook his head. No. Elliot already had a ball and glove. As a matter of fact, the only child of his good friend Jacob Simmons had more toys than a boy would ever have time to enjoy. Two sets of doting grandparents, along with other family members and friends, had seen to that.

_So why are you looking for something to add to the multitude? _

It really didn't make much sense. But he wanted his little friend to delight in the gift, and a toy, whether Elliot needed it or not, seemed to be the logical choice. He put the ball back into the bin.

Elizabeth had told him not to worry about getting her son a present. Just his being at the small get-together would be enough to make the youngster happy. But he couldn't show up without a present on the first birthday he'd share with Elliot.

He continued to scan the endless collection of toys as he walked down the aisles. He saw puzzles, stuffed animals, skates, skateboards, tricycles and bicycles.

_What do you get a six-year-old for his birthday? _

Throughout his almost 800 years, Nicholas Knight had had very few reasons to consider that question.

As he moved along, Nick was so immersed in his search that he didn't notice the woman, whose arms were filled with several boxes, until he bowled into her. The contact sent the parcels flying. Nick reached out to steady the woman as he apologized. "Are you all right? I'm sorry. I didn't see you standing there." He flashed a repentant smile at the frowning young woman as he released her.

But neither Nick's words, nor his smile, appeared to have any soothing affect. An irritated sigh left the woman before she dropped her hands on her hips. She shot him an impatient glare. Her voice was a little louder than it needed to be when she finally spoke. "What? Do you need glasses or something? How could you not see me standing here holding all these boxes?"

Nick frowned at the annoyed words, a twinge of anger rising at her unwillingness to accept his apology.

_Hello? Accident._

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but quickly decided against the indignant response as he got a closer look at the tired mortal standing before him.

He noted the tendrils of dark hair that had escaped a bun that he was certain had started the day neatly tucked at the back of her head. Her pretty face was drawn with fatigue, and the shadow of circles showed under her brown eyes. She'd let her hands drop from her hips, and her shoulders drooped without the support. The business suit she wore was wrinkled and limp from a long day's wear, and she appeared the slightest bit unsteady on her high heels. She was the picture of exhaustion, and his collision with her had only helped to unnerve her further. Sympathy replaced Nick's anger, his sharp retort quickly forgotten.

Instead, he bent down and started to gather the scattered boxes as she continued to chastise him. "I was lucky enough to find the last red Power Ranger doll. My little boy's been asking for one for months. You better hope it didn't break because of your clumsiness. There's only a little over a month left until Christmas, and I won't be able to get hold of another one in time if it is broken."

Nick had the parcels collected and stacked neatly on the floor by the time she finished voicing her concerns. He picked up the toys, and, as he straightened, became uncomfortably aware of the curious looks he and his victim were receiving from other customers in the crowded store. Again, he tried to smooth things over. "I really am very sorry." He paused a moment to search the woman's face for any sign of forgiveness. He saw none. He forced smile as he continued, a hopeful note in his voice. "The Power Ranger is here on top. It doesn't look any worse for the experience."

The putout mother shot him a skeptical glance. Pulling the doll from the stack, she took a closer look. Her expression soften slightly when she saw that her son's much coveted toy was undamaged; however, she still seemed unwilling to forgive Nick his awkwardness. She put the toy back on the stack and held out her arms. "Well, consider yourself lucky it didn't break."

Nick wanted to make up for the trouble he'd caused. "Can I get you a cart for these?"

The lady shook her head. "No. I'm finished shopping. I just want to get out of here. Can I have my packages back?" She emphasized the question with raised eyebrows.

He tried again. "Will you let me carry them to the check-out lane for you?"

Looking up into Nick's still smiling face, the unfortunate customer again shook her head, her tone continuing to echo with irritation. "No. I think you've done enough. I just want my boxes so I can leave."

"I truly am sorry for the inconvenience." He handed the unforgiving woman her boxes.

Pinning him with another peevish look, she turned on her heel and headed toward the front of the store, leaving Nick staring after her, utterly defeated. There was just no pleasing some beings. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. Closing his eyes, he pushed the negative thought from his mind.

Of course, he knew why he bothered.

With a shrug, he turned back to the shelves and resumed his search for the perfect gift, but his enthusiasm was gone. It only took a couple of minutes for him to decide he too wanted to get out of there. He glanced at his watch. It was getting late anyway. He needed to get to the station. There was still a little time before Elliot's birthday. He could continue looking tomorrow. Slowly and carefully he moved through the crowd and made his way to the exit.

Nick sat at the red light staring down at the radio. He reached out to turn it on, but stopped the movement just as he touched the knob. Once again, there was a familiar, gentle tug along the thread that would forever bind him to his master. Tonight, however, he resisted the summons. Even though the malice he held for LaCroix had mellowed over the last several months, Nick was still determined to distance himself from the ancient vampire and the existence he represented. However, Nick was finding it harder and harder to do these days.

Over the months, things had happened in his life that had taken heavy tolls on his resolve. He had worked through them, but not without feeling that resolve slip. The sickness caused by his infection with the disappointing AIDS cure had made him wonder if death was the only type of mortality he would ever know. His hope slipped. The demon possession had given a renewed strength to his desire for human blood, and the recent encounter with the VR game had taken that strengthened desire further by engaging him once more in the hunt and kill. The exhilaration the game had fostered frightened him. His will slipped.

Nick closed his eyes against disturbing recollections. He didn't want to be this _thing_ anymore. He didn't!

The Nightcrawler turned down the microphone and started the music.

Sitting back in his chair, he closed his eyes, allowing every muscle in his body to relax. The turmoil of his son's emotions and thoughts came to him slowly, and a contented smile curved his mouth.

The light turned green, and the horn of the car behind him brought Nick's attention back to the road. He shoved the tumultuous images from his mind.

Taking his foot off the brake, he allowed the Caddy to resume the relatively short journey to the station. Once there, he parked in front of the 96th Precinct building but remained in the car. Tracy would be waiting for him, but his thoughts had wandered back to the child whose upcoming celebration had been the catalyst for the night's minor fiasco at the toy store.

The tension caused by his uneasy thoughts drained away as the happy, young face of Elliot Simmons came to mind. The soon-to-be six-year-old, along with his father and mother, had become very dear to Nick since their circumstantial meeting less than a year ago. Elliot was an out-going, energetic, inquisitive boy who looked up to Nick with all the uninhibited trust and enthusiasm only the innocence of a child would allow. He couldn't resist basking in Elliot's affection, even though the always-present inner voice told him that he didn't deserve it and should discourage the young mortal's ever growing devotion. But Jacob's son brought a joy and light to Nick's existence that he was not prepared to relinquish.

The day he met the boy and his family was still very fresh in Nick's mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO SEVERAL MONTHS EARLIER

Nick headed out of the auditorium. The first lecture of the series on the Ming dynasty of China had been excellent. Professor Simmons had proven to be a wonderful instructor.

He'd signed up for the bimonthly evening lectures to help satisfy his curiosity about Chinese history. He had met Chinese people and learned the language during time spent in San Francisco, but had never made it to China.

_One of these days. _

When he'd read about the lecture series in the paper, it seemed like a good opportunity to further his knowledge. The arts and crafts from the Ming period had always fascinated him. He wanted to know more about the people and their story.

The appeal of the lecture also stemmed from a desire to experience the classroom again. It had been over 40 years since he'd been part of the education scene in any capacity. Even though his last experience had come to an abrupt, unpleasant end, he still thought it would be enjoyable to return for a while as a pupil. He hadn't realized how much he missed the process of teaching and learning until a couple of hours ago.

Natalie was another person who had been happy with his decision. When he'd told her he was considering taking the class, the smile that came to her face brought a satisfying warmth to his heart. Actually, he'd been very surprised by the spirited reaction his news brought.

Nick recalled her words. 'You've been slowly distancing yourself from people since Schank's death, Nick. And the obstacles you've faced lately haven't gone toward making you any more social. I know it's been hard, but you can't give up and wall yourself off from everything but the 96th. Participating in the mortal world means more than just working with us, Nick. It means sharing the whole experience. Meeting people and starting friendships is a big part of that experience. It's a part you've abandoned recently.' She'd smiled then and stood up on her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. 'I'm glad to see you're going to get back out and interact with humans more outside of being a cop. It's a good sign. I'm very proud of you, Mister Knight.' The delight on her face made him feel about ten feet tall, and it had taken all the restraint he'd possessed to keep from taking her in his arms and pursuing that kiss a little further.

A mischievous glint had come into Nat's eyes as she'd gone to the refrigerator and returned with one of her specialties. 'Now, if you'll try this new recipe I've concocted, and tell me it's the best thing you've tasted in, oh let's say, 767 years, I'll be an extraordinarily happy camper.'

Unfortunately, she had had to settle for being simply a happy camper that night.

Nick descended the last few steps leading to the ground floor of the building. He had the car keys out of his pocket and was about to push his way through the door when his attention was drawn by the sound of an accelerated heartbeat. It was a familiar and unsettling sound, and it stopped him in his tracks. He turned to find the hallway almost empty, save for two female coeds talking and laughing as they made their way down the corridor in the opposite direction, a janitor stopped at a closet refilling his cleaning cart with a few essentials, and a young boy standing by a water fountain. Nick identified the disturbed pulse as belonging to the child and abandoned his departure.

As he approached the small mortal, Nick observed him more closely. The youth looked to be about four or five years old. His height and build were average for a boy his age. The reddish blond hair was short and neat, and looked as though it had been cut recently. He wore black sneakers, blue jeans and a heavy blue coat with a hood. As Nick closed the distance between them, he also noted the light smattering of freckles that played across the child's fair nose and cheeks.

Noticing Nick's approach, the boy looked up. Because of the youngster's coloring, the detective had expected to meet blue or maybe green eyes, but not the large, liquid brown that he saw. They were fringed with lashes long enough to make any woman envious, and Nick couldn't get over how beautiful they were. Beautiful seemed an odd word to use to describe a male's features, yet it was the only word that came to mind. He had to chuckle to himself as Bambi also popped into his head. But, in addition to their beauty, the immortal also beheld the fear that lurked in the eyes that watched him draw near.

A friendly, reassuring smile softened Nick's features as he spoke to the child. "Hi. My name's Nick. What's yours?"

Dropping his gaze to stare down the hall, the youngster tried to ignore the man standing in front of him. Nick squatted down closer to the child's level and tried again. "I'm not going to hurt you. Won't you tell me your name?"

The youth turned his attention back to the grown-up and shook his head. "Mom told me not to talk to strangers."

Reaching into a pocket, Nick pulled out his badge. "Well, your Mom is very right. Little boys shouldn't talk to people they don't know. But I'm a police officer. Don't you think it would be all right for you to talk to me? See. Here's my badge." He held out the wallet containing his ID for the child to see. He knew the boy probably couldn't read it, but he hoped the youth might recognize a badge.

Large eyes got even larger as the young man reached out a hand to touch the piece of metal in the wallet. "Wow. Cool. Can I hold it?"

Nick's smile broadened. "Sure." He handed the boy his identification.

The child examined the badge for a second and then lifted his head, suspicion shadowing his face. "Hey. If you're a real policeman, where's your police clothes? And your hat?"

Knight straightened as he considered the questions. He wasn't sure if the child would completely grasp what a police detective was, but he would give it a try. "I'm a detective. Detectives don't have to wear a uniform. We wear our own clothes."

The youngster's voice was slightly hushed and breathless with anticipation as he asked, "A detective? Does that mean you're undercover?"

Grinning at the wide-eyed look on the small face, Nick hesitated a moment before answering. He hated to burst the boy's bubble, but this wasn't one of those police dramas on TV. He shook his head. "No, I'm not undercover." He watched the disappointment move across the freckled expression as he continued. "It just means that all policeman don't do the same thing, and some of us don't have to wear a uniform.

"Aren't you good enough to have a uniform?" the child persisted.

Nick, feeling a little out of his depth, sighed to himself. _Maybe I should have just told him I was off duty._ He then attempted to explain. "Well, it's not that. It's just that I do a different kind of police job and don't need a uniform. But I always carry my badge."

A muttered, "Oh. Okay," left the mortal as his attention was drawn once again to the object in his hand. A small finger pointed to one side of the wallet. "This is a picture of you, isn't it? It doesn't really look a lot like you though, does it?" He looked back at Nick. "Do you work at night or during the day? My Dad works both sometimes. Hey! Do you have a gun? Are you going to school here? I didn't know policemen had to go to school. I'm going to kindergarten. It's pretty fun. Do you like going to school?"

A cloud of bewilderment descended over Nick's mind for a moment as he stared into the angelic face of the youth. Just when did he lose control of this conversation? The boy's apparent trust and curiosity pleased him, but he still didn't know the child's name. Ignoring the barrage of questions for the time being, he tried to get some of his own answered. He smiled and knelt back down on one knee. "Hold your horses, little man. You know something about me already, but I don't know anything about you. Please tell me your name and why you're down here by yourself."

"My name's Elliot. Elliot Simmons," was the reply as the lad handed Nick back his wallet.

The detective held out his hand, and the young Mr. Simmons took it while the smile on his charming face grew wider. Nick shook the small hand and again introduced himself. "Well, Elliot Simmons, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Nick Knight."

Elliot looked down at the large, pale hand that held his and then up into Nick's face, his expression suddenly very serious. "You need to get some gloves, Nick. Your hands are really cold. Mom always makes me wear 'em. See." He pulled a pair of red mittens out of a coat pocket and then pushed them back into the hole. "She doesn't want me to get the flu or anything. I hope you don't get the flu."

Nick's smile disappeared as he too looked at their coupled hands and struggled to subdue the feeling of isolation that moved over him as a result of the child's outspoken, innocent words. Sometimes the simplest things brought the feeling to the surface, but he refused to let it over take him tonight. There were gloves in his pocket, but he chose to ignore them and let the boy's reasoning stand. He only wore them for appearance sake and didn't want to make an issue of having them.

Releasing Elliot's hand, he got back to his feet. The child's concern for his health touched him, and his smile returned. "Yeah. I know. I'll have to get some. But don't you worry about me. I don't get sick." He returned the badge to his blazer and then buried his hands in the pockets of his long, black coat. "Now, for the next question. Why are you down here by yourself? Are your parents here anywhere?"

Master Simmons pointed to the staircase. "Well, Mom was talking to some people, so I went exploring. I found these stairs and went down 'em. But, now I can't remember how many I need to go back up to find Mom and Dad." The young voice cracked with the last word. Elliot was once again becoming frightened. Doe-like eyes were suddenly wet with unshed tears as they gazed up at Nick.

The sight tugged at his heart, and a fierce desire to protect and comfort the small wanderer came surging forward. He was quickly back on one knee. Putting a consoling arm around Elliot's shoulders, he tried to reassure the child. "It's okay, Elliot. I'll help you find your parents. Your Dad teaches here, doesn't he?" The youngster silently nodded his head. Nick wasn't sure why it didn't click as soon as he heard the boy say his last name, but he knew that Elliot's father and the professor whose class he'd just left were one and the same. Getting the family back together wouldn't be too difficult a task. Professor Simmons and his wife more than likely had missed their son by now and were probably looking for him at this very moment. "All right, then. I have an idea where we can find your parents. How about coming with me?" Nick stood up and held out a hand. Without a second's hesitation, Elliot took it, and they made their way up the stairs to the third floor of the building.

Nick and his charge walked hand in hand down the hall toward the classroom in which he had, less than thirty minutes ago, sat and enjoyed his first lecture. But before they reached the room, the pair was stopped by a relieved, tearful cry of the boy's name coming from behind them. They turned to see a woman, her arms held open wide, walking very quickly toward them.

Elliot looked up at Nick and smiled. "That's my Mom."

Nick couldn't help the short laugh that escaped him at the youth's statement of the obvious. Releasing the small hand, he silently looked on as Elliot walked into the waiting arms of his mother.

A healthy dose of satisfaction moved through him as Mrs. Simmons knelt down and gave her wayward son a bear hug. Then, after a moment or two, she pulled Elliot away from her to look into his face. The relief and joy her expression had held only a moment ago turned to concern and irritation as she tried to express to the child that what he had done was not a good thing. "Elliot, how many times have I got to tell you not to wander off? You scared the life out of me and your father. You know better than to go off on your own, young man. You could get hurt. What if we couldn't find you? Please don't do that again."

Knight walked up behind the small explorer as the lad apologized to his distraught parent. "I'm sorry, Mom. I got lost while I was looking around. I've never been in this building before." Elliot looked over his shoulder at Nick, and then back to his mother. "Nick found me. I got scared, and he said he'd help me find you. He's a policeman, a detective, and he's real nice. He let me see his badge. It was neat." He turned to Nick again. "Can Mom see your badge? I bet she'll think it's cool too."

Mrs. Simmons straightened her just over five-foot, slender frame and faced the man who had returned her son to her. Nick now knew where Elliot had gotten his beautiful eyes. The woman looked at him with the same large, liquid-brown gaze that her son had. Unlike the boy, her hair was brown and fell around her shoulders in a soft wave. Her lovely heart-shaped face held an expression of thanks along with a hint of suspicion. She was grateful for her son's safe return, but she also wanted to see the proof that Nick really was what he'd told her son he was. Totally understandable. He reached into his pocket for the confirmation of his claim.

As he held out the ID, he introduced himself to the concerned mother. "I'm Metro Detective Nick Knight, Mrs. Simmons. I'm pleased to meet you."

The lady looked carefully at the credentials and then raised a smiling face to her son's rescuer. "I'm Elizabeth Simmons, Detective Knight." Nick shook the offered hand as she went on. "I can't thank you enough. We've been running around here frantically for almost half an hour trying to find Elliot. We've been up and down those stairs at least three times. I don't know how we could have missed him. I'm so relieved you were able to help him find his way back. Thank you so very much. Where was he?"

Nick put a hand on the child's head and playfully mussed the red-blond hair. "The little investigator here had made his way down to the ground floor hallway, where I noticed that he looked a little upset and out of place. He told me his name and that his father was a teacher. I'd just come from Professor Simmons' lecture on the Ming dynasty, so here we are."

Elliot flashed Nick a smile and looked back to his mother. "Nick's real smart, Mom. He knew right where to go to find you. He must be a real good policeman."

Elizabeth Simmons nodded as her gaze moved from her son to Nick, happiness and appreciation shining in her eyes. "Yes, Elliot. He must be a real good policeman. Thank you."

At that moment Nick noticed Professor Simmons coming around a corner. The mortal spotted the small group and shouted, "Elliot?" He all but ran to them and scooped the boy up into his arms. He pulled the small wanderer close in a hug, very similar to the one his wife had bestowed on their son not ten minutes earlier. "Are you all right? Where have you been? You had us worried sick."

Moving his arms from around his father's neck, Elliot leaned back a fraction to look into the adult's face. "I'm sorry, Dad. I went exploring and couldn't find my way back. But, Nick..." He looked around, pointed at Nick and then turned back to his father. "That's Nick. He's a policeman and my new friend. He helped me."

Warmed by the boy's reference to him as a friend, Nick stepped forward as he was acknowledged. The relieved father held his son in one arm as he shook Nick's hand. Mrs. Simmons made the introduction. "Jacob, this is Detective Nick Knight from the Metro police. We have him to thank for Elliot's safe return. Detective, this is my husband, Jacob Simmons."

"Well, it sure is a pleasure to meet you, Nick. Looks like you're our blessing for the day. Thank you very much for your help." As Professor Simmons released Nick's hand, he paused for a second and then turned puzzled eyes toward his wife. "Police? Did you call the police?" He looked back at Nick and smiled. "Boy, you guys work fast."

The next few minutes were spent explaining the circumstances surrounding Elliot's discovery to his slightly confused, but very happy father.

When Nick and Elizabeth had finished the story, Jacob nodded his head. "I thought you looked a little familiar. Well, what did you think of the first class?"

Before Nick could answer, Elliot tapped his father on the shoulder and whispered, "Dad, can I please get down now?"

A subtle mixture of longing and envy gripped Nick as Professor

Simmons smiled at his son and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Jacob then turned his head slightly and presented his cheek to the boy, who took his father's face in his hands and gave his parent a very enthusiastic peck in return. The child beamed, and Jacob planted another quick kiss on the end of his son's nose. However, the professor's expression became serious and his voice stern as he gave his permission. "Okay. But you stick very close. Understood?"

Still smiling from ear to ear, Elliot bobbed his head up and down in agreement. Once on the ground, the young, would-be Columbus walked over and took his mother's out-stretched hand, settling in beside her.

As the scene played out, Nick became more aware of just how loved this small mortal was by the two people who had brought him into the world, and how much the boy returned that love. He yearned for the closeness the three shared, and as he stared at the picture of mother and son, Natalie entered his thoughts. Her beautiful face drifted into his mind's eye and the desire for something that he was slowly beginning to believe could never be, burned even brighter. He'd always envied Schanke his wife and daughter, but as Nick looked at the smaller version of Jacob standing by his mother, he envied Professor Simmons even more. Having a son was the want of many a man, and he was no different in that respect. Nat as his wife, their son and the love that could be shared by them represented the ultimate achievement.

But regaining the mortality that would allow for the opportunity of that achievement seemed more of an impossibility than ever. Since Schanke's death, the doubts he'd had about his ability and desire to become human again had grown. Losing his friend and partner had almost driven him from Toronto, Nat and their work. The hope he'd allowed himself with Marion Blackwing had been tragically dashed, and looking back on it now, he realized he'd only been kidding himself. With LaCroix's help, he had regained his memory and an old kind of closeness with his master that surprised him. Listening to the elder talk about their life together, and seeing the deep emotion on his face as he spoke, had touched Nick in a way he had not expected. The hostility he felt for the ancient vampire had cooled, and with it, some of the intense desire to break free and push his immortal father away.

LaCroix's help in ridding him of the demon had also gone toward a renewed harmony between the two. The event had also served to intensify that part of Nick's nature he so desperately tried to keep under control. The craving for human blood. The encounter had been a major setback that he was still finding difficult to completely overcome. The draw of the vampire had become stronger, and there'd been a time or two when he had found himself at the Raven longing for Janette and the relief and comfort she afforded him. Thoughts of, and guilt over, Nat had sent him back to the loft, but they never seemed to be enough to completely stifle the need. His belief in the goal of mortality was slowly trickling away, and he seemed powerless to stop the retreat. This venture back to school made Nat happy, and she saw it as a positive sign, but Nick wondered if it would really have much of an effect on his outlook.

Nick's focus moved from Elliot to Jacob, and, for the first time, he recognized the great resemblance between father and son. Except for the eyes (Jacob's were a hazel color) and the adult's just-under-six-foot height, the two mortals were very similar in every other feature. Even the tortoiseshell glasses that the professor wore didn't detract from the obvious likeness, and Nick pondered what it would be like to have a miniature version of himself to nurture and love. A son to return that love.

His attention was drawn back to Jacob as he repeated his question. "What did you think of the first class, Nick? Did you enjoy it? Chinese history is one of my favorite subjects, and I'm really looking forward to teaching this class. I hope everyone has fun learning about the fascinating series of events as much as I'm going to love talking about them." In addition to his words, the excitement in Jacob's voice and expression did much to convince Nick just how enthusiastic the professor was about his teaching. He'd witnessed this spirit in the classroom, but listening to Simmons talk about his work now made his passion for the job much more apparent.

Nick happily anticipated the rest of the series. "Oh, I found the first lecture very informative and completely enjoyable. I think I'm looking forward to hearing the rest of them almost as much as you're looking forward to teaching them."

Jacob pushed his unruly glasses up on his nose as his smile widened. "I'm glad to hear it. It's a pleasure teaching enthusiastic students."

"I found the background to the establishment of the Ming very interesting.

The Yuan never should have underestimated the power of angry peasants. Rebellion has toppled many a government. But, Chinese history evolves around the fall of one dynasty and the rise of another, so it was inevitable, I guess. Nothing lasts forever."

_Well, almost nothing._

The detective's statement seemed to pique Jacob's interest. "But doesn't China, as a whole, come awfully close? I mean, it's the oldest established civilization in the world. From prehistoric time to the present is a pretty long time. Wouldn't you agree?"

Nodding, Nick opened his mouth to accept what the professor had said, but was cut short as Elizabeth stepped forward. "Okay, guys. It's getting kind of late, and Elliot needs to get to bed. Can you continue this discussion at home, please?" Her gaze fell meaningfully on her husband.

Simmons looked at Nick. "How about it? Are you up for some coffee and further delving into history? Coffee is the least we can do after what you've done for us."

Nick was about to say no, but stopped short. He again recalled the joy on Natalie's precious face when he'd told her about his school plans. She was right, of course. Recent occurrences had reinforced the wariness he felt about getting too close to mortals, but he needed to make the effort to overcome the feeling. If he could master the fear, it might brighten the fading belief in his goal. Although he'd only just met Jacob and his family, he already liked and felt comfortable with them. He very much wanted to visit their home and continue his talk with the professor.

Nick looked down at Elliot, who was smiling up at him and nodding his head in encouragement, and was delighted by the sight. The boy had quickly endeared himself to Nick, and his silent urging made the decision suddenly very easy. He had the night off and decided not to deny himself. He turned back to Jacob. "Well, I'll have to pass on the coffee. I'm on this special diet. But I'm certainly up for the delving."

The agreement was met with a smile and a single clap of Jacob's hands. "Great!" Simmons then addressed his wife. "We're parked in the lot. Right?"

Smiling, Elizabeth nodded. "Yes." She turned to Nick. "It's a gray Ford Tempo. Four door. We'll point it out to you, and you can follow us. The house really isn't very far. We walk when the weather's nice, but it's so cold now."

Nick pulled into the drive behind the gray car. As promised, it had been a short drive. Not too much further than right around the corner.

He got out and stood by his Caddy as the Simmons family piled out of their car.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Elliot ran up to Nick. "Wow! Neat car! Can I ride in it with the top down?"

Knight squatted in front of the smiling child. "When the weather gets warmer, I'll take you for a drive one evening. How's that?"

"Cool," was the answer as Nick straightened, and Jacob and Elizabeth walked up behind their son.

The boy's mother held out her hand. "Come on, young man. You need a bath and some sleep."

"Oh, Mom." Elliot's smile disappeared and a disappointed frown took its place as he begged his case. "It's not very late. Can't I stay up a little longer with Dad and Nick? Please?"

But Mrs. Simmons would not be persuaded. "It's almost nine-thirty. Well past your bedtime. You have school tomorrow. You can come back down after you get ready for bed and say good-night. Now, let's get inside. It's freezing out here."

The youth turned pleading eyes to his father who shook his head. "Don't look at me. You know the rules. Mom has spoken."

A look of resignation settled over Elliot's expression as he reluctantly accepted his parents' decree. "Okay." He took his mother's hand, and they started up the short flight of stairs leading to the front of the house. The child stopped on the top step and looked back at Nick. "You won't leave before

I can say good-night, will ya?"

The concern on the young face pulled at Nick's heart. That this small mortal should look up to him so quickly, surprised and flattered him. "No, I won't leave. I'll be here when you're ready."

Elliot nodded, satisfied with the answer, and continued into the house with his mother.

Jacob watched his wife and son enter their home and then turned back to Nick. "He's taken quite a shine to you. Thanks again for all your help."

Nick's gaze moved from the closed door of the house to his host. "I've taken a shine to him too. He's a great kid. I'm glad I could help."

Simmons eyed the Caddy. "Nice Cadillac. What year is it?"

"Sixty-two."

"It's in great shape. You take good care of it." Jacob ran an admiring hand down the hood.

"Thanks. I do my best." Nick was gratified by the mortal's appreciation.

The professor raised his admiring eyes from the car and looked at Nick, a guilty frown turning his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm being an awful host. Keeping you out here in the cold. Let's go inside."

"Not at all." Nick shook his head. "I certainly don't mind when people admire the Caddy."

"Well, it is a nice car. Shall we go inside?" Jacob started up the stairs, and Nick followed him toward the small, but comfortable-looking home.

The driveway was located on the left side of the two-story dwelling. The small stoop led to a short sidewalk that extended straight a few feet and then curved to the left. It stopped at a four-step staircase going up onto a small porch that extended the length of the house. Nick noticed a swing hanging from the ceiling as it swayed ever so slowly in the winter breeze. It brought to mind cool, summer evenings, and as he imagined the Simmons family settled on the swing enjoying a glass of lemonade, the twinge of envy returned.

Jacob opened the door, and he and Nick stepped into a tiny foyer. To the left, about ten feet from the door, was a staircase to the second floor. Directly in front of them was a small hallway that led into the kitchen, and to the right a doorway opened into the living room.

Jacob closed the door. "Welcome to my home. Can I take your coat?" He pulled off his gray, down jacket, hung it on a coat rack that occupied a corner by the door and held out his hand to Nick.

Slipping out of his long, black garment, Nick handed it to his host. "Thanks for inviting me."

"It's our pleasure." Jacob looked down the hall into the kitchen. "Beth?"

There was silence for a moment, and then the sound of footsteps on the ceiling. Elizabeth appeared at the top of the staircase holding a bath towel. Her expression revealed the smallest degree of irritation, but she forced a smile as she looked down on her husband and Nick. The green sweater she wore now had several large, dark splotches on it that looked like wet spots. "Yes?"

The professor read his wife's annoyance immediately. "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Simmons sighed. "Your son is a little hyped tonight. We seem to be having a difficult time keeping the water in the tub."

Nick couldn't stop the grin. He covered it with his hand as Jacob shook his head, look down at the floor and then back to his wife. "Do you want me to give you a hand?"

"No." Elizabeth declined the offer. "I've got things under control. Can you fix the coffee? We should be done in a few minutes. I can hardly keep him in the tub, he's so anxious to get downstairs to see Nick." She flashed him a warm smile. "You've made a fast friend." With that, she disappeared down the upstairs hall.

Jacob motioned toward the living room. "Have a seat. I'll get the coffee started. It'll only take a minute."

Simmons headed for the kitchen, and Nick entered the living room. It was a cozy little space with a fireplace that took up almost the entire far wall. There was no fire glowing in it now, but upon seeing the large amount of ash, he guessed it got a pretty good workout this time of year. A large, oval, braided rug covered most of the hardwood floor, and a hodge podge of furniture filled the room nicely. Nick recognized a couple of what he thought were antiques mixed in with various styles from several other more modern periods. Nothing looked anywhere close to being new, but everything appeared in good condition and comfortable. A teacher, university or no, didn't make a great deal of money, and the young couple, Nick guessed them both to be in their early thirties, had obviously gathered the collection over their few years together. He smiled as his eyes scanned the area. He liked it.

He was settling into a wingback chair by the fireplace when Jacob entered. "Coffee'll be ready in a couple of minutes." Simmons rubbed his hands together. "Are you cold? I think I'll start a fire. I'll just run and get some wood from the back porch." And the mortal was gone again.

Just then, Nick heard what could have been a herd of elephants running across the ceiling. The stampede made its way to the stairs and bounded down them in the form of Elliot. His smile was automatic as the child gallop into the room. The boy wore flannel sleepers and his hair was still damp from his bath. He stopped a few feet short of Nick, his face bright with pleasure at the sight of his new friend. "Hi."

Elizabeth, who had followed her energetic son, stood in the doorway as Nick returned the greeting. "Hi. Hey, I like those PJ's." He pointed to the child's covered feet.

Elliot looked down as he wiggled his toes and then raised his gaze. "Thanks. They're really warm, and they got neat dinosaurs on 'em." He pulled his shirt away from his chest so his new friend could get a closer look.

Nick leaned forward in his chair. "Oh? So that's what those are."

He stood, and his amused eyes traveled from Elliot to Mrs. Simmons as she walked into the room and up beside her son. She motioned for Nick to sit down. "You don't have to get up on my account." She took a quick look around the room. "Are you alone down here? Surely Jacob couldn't still be making coffee?"

"No." Nick shook his head. "He went out to get some wood for a fire. He's only been gone a couple of minutes."

Just as he finished the last word, everyone's attention was drawn to the doorway to see Professor Simmons walk in with several pieces of wood in his arms. He moved past his wife and son and placed the logs on the grate. "Now we should be able to warm things up a little." He turned a satisfied expression to the others in the room.

"Jacob, did you get the coffee started?" Simmons nodded, and his wife continued. "Well, while you get the fire going, I'll bring it in." She looked down at Elliot. "You need to say your good-nights, young man. When I get back with the coffee, it'll be bedtime for you."

The earlier disappointment returned to the freckled face. "Oh, Mom. I..."

Mrs. Simmons held up a hand, and her son fell silent. "Don't 'oh Mom' me. We've been through this already." She smiled and bent to place a kiss on the top of Elliot's head. "Now, say your good-nights and I'll tuck you in after I get back." She left to retrieve the coffee.

Jacob walked up to the youngster and held out his arms. "Okay, Sport, give us a hug."

Elliot held up his arms, and his father picked him up. The scene was almost identical to the one Nick had witnessed at the university earlier that night as father and son embraced, and he again felt the longing.

After they had exchanged kisses, Professor Simmons lowered his son back to the floor, and the youth walked over to Nick. "Good-night, Nick."

Elliot again held up his arms, indicating that he wanted to be picked up, catching Nick off guard. After a moments hesitation, he obliged his small friend and was rewarded by a fervent hug around his neck. As the child held on, Nick slid his arms moved around the small, warm body and returned the embrace. He closed his eyes, relishing the closeness, before Elliot moved away. He sat back in Nick's arms smiling, and then leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek. The gesture again took Nick aback, but it also served to deepen the fondness he already felt for the boy. He returned the kiss as Elizabeth entered the room carrying a tray.

She set it down on the coffee table and smiled. "Have you finished saying good-night?"

Elliot, finally showing some sign of fatigue, put a hand up to cover a yawn as he answered. "Yeah, Mom."

Walking over to the pair, Elizabeth held out her arms. "Okay, then. Let's go up, and I'll tuck you in."

The child went to his mother who playfully protested the extra weight. "Oh my, Elliot. You're getting so big. Soon I won't be able to pick you up at all." She smiled at Nick and carried her son from the room.

When she reached the bottom of the steps, she stopped. "How about I put you down and you get upstairs under your own steam?" She hadn't finished the question before Elliot's feet touched the first step. Elizabeth took her son's hand, and they started up the stairs. The boy glanced over at Nick and waved as he and his mother reached the top. He waved back, and mother and son disappeared from view.

With a broad smile on his face, Jacob patted Nick on the back. "How about some coffee?"

Nick shook his head. "No, Jacob, thank you. I'm on a special liquid diet, but coffee's not one of the liquids."

"Tea?" asked the professor.

"No. Nothing." Nick again refused the offer. "The conversation will do me just fine."

"Okay," Simmons relented. "But you don't know what you're missing. Even Beth admits to my great coffee making." He indicated the wingback chair, and Nick sat back down.

Jacob started to take a seat on the couch, but stopped and snapped his fingers as a realization crossed his face. He strolled over to a modest radio/cassette player sitting on a bookshelf across the room and started a tape. Nick leaned back and closed his eyes as the low, gentle tones of Beethoven's Klavierstuck in A Minor-Fur Elise floated through the air. Contentment curved his mouth.

Simmons nodded as he walked back to the couch. "My sentiments exactly. This is the greatest music in the world." He sat down and poured himself a mug of coffee before starting the fire.

After getting Elliot settled down, Elizabeth joined them. The rest of the night was spent in conversations ranging from the composer of the music that played in the background to the immortality of the Chinese culture. Through this interaction, Nick discovered that Elizabeth was also a professor of history and had taken the last five years off to have and raise her son. As a result of this collection of knowledge, the discussions got fairly in-depth, and Nick found himself completely enthralled. His knowledge of archeology slipped through several times, and Jacob was fascinated. He confided a desire to excavate an Egyptian tomb some day, and his wife laughed, telling him that he had to excavate the attic before venturing to any foreign territory. The evening passed quickly, and it was well after midnight before Nick finally made his way back to the loft. He had found the whole experience thoroughly enjoyable.

Knight blinked as he cleared his mind of the memory. That night had resulted in friendship with a mortal and his family that Nick hadn't known himself capable of having. It was different from the friendship he'd had with Schanke. Nothing could compare to the closeness two people shared when they were partnered in police work. And although he and Schank had started their days working together on rocky footing, they quickly became a good team and very good friends. He still felt the sharp pain of loss from his partner's death. Nick would never forget him.

But their relationship had never gone too much further than the work environment. There had been the short time he'd allowed Don to stay at the loft after he walked out on his wife, and the few times they had given each other rides to work, but as a whole they had spent little time together when they were off duty. He had very seldom seen Myra or Jenny. Schanke had had his bowling buddies, and Nick was the proverbial square peg in a round hole when it came to the circles Schank moved in outside of the job. Jacob, on the other hand, shared several personal interests with Nick, and they had grown close over the last several months. He had come to value the companionship of the professor and his family very much.

The inner voice again nagged his unworthiness of the relationship, but he forced it into silence. He got out of the car and started into the building.

End Capter 2


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tracy Vetter looked at the computer screen. She and her partner were supposed to be catching up on the follow-ups of several arrest reports, but once again Nick was nowhere to be found. She looked at her watch. It was nine forty. He could at least call and let her know he would be late. She glanced over at the captain's door. Reese would walk out of his office any minute wanting to know where Knight was, and, as usual, she wouldn't be able to tell him. Then she would have to sit and listen to yet another lecture on the definition of 'partner'.

_Come on, Nick. I don't want to hear it again._ She looked at the door to the squad room and willed him to walk through it. No such luck.

She set her sights back on the computer. After only a couple of minutes, the words on the screen started to blur as she looked through them and her mind wandered back to her absent partner. Nicholas Knight's reputation as one of the best cops on the force made him famous throughout the department, and from her first day at the academy, she'd heard stories about the brave, not too bad-looking, detective. She'd even heard her father, the police commissioner, praise him a couple of times, and that in itself had made the biggest impression. Detective Knight was good-very good. So when she'd found out she would have a chance to work with him, she'd been more than a little excited by the opportunity. The fact that Reese was obviously going out of his way to shield her because of who she was didn't bother her too much. If it gave her the opportunity to work with and learn from the famous Nick Knight, she wouldn't complain. She would just have to prove herself once again.

As she had expected, Nick turned out to be a terrific partner. She'd learned a great deal from him, and he'd saved her butt more than once. But above all else, he respected her and her abilities as a police officer, and that made their association work. The mutual respect. She really couldn't have asked for a better partner. Well, almost.

Stealing another glance at her watch, Tracy let out a short, frustrated sigh. Nick did, after all, have his faults. Those stories of bravery she'd heard as a cadet and later as a rookie had been accompanied by tales of Detective Knight's little eccentricities. He was infamous for being a little on the odd side. The whispers hadn't deterred her enthusiasm, however. A lot of exceptional people were a little on the odd side. It made life more interesting.

But along with the engaging aspect of working with Knight came the frustrating part. The first thing Tracy remembered hearing about Nick was that he worked alone. He had requested to be by himself, and amazingly, the department agreed to his request. Cops, even homicide cops, had partners. Back-up was one of the things that kept officers alive. That the department had let him work alone was very unusual. And even though he had worked with Schanke for the last several years, he was still very independent when it came to the job. At his core, he was a mysterious loner and his independence was a source of agitation for those who tried to work closely with him. His moodiness didn't make life any easier, either.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Tracy's mouth as she pondered, _I bet swapping 'Nick' stories with Don Schanke would have been an extremely interesting exercise. _

The grin faded, and a frown creased her brow. Donald Schanke had been a much-loved member of the department, and his loss was still felt by everyone, but no more acutely than by her partner. Nick never opened up about anything, much less his feelings over his friend's death, but his devastation had been obvious.

She closed her eyes against the feeling of dread the memory conjured up. Tracy recalled the unbearable anguish she'd felt when she had been told Nick died as a result of the gunshot wound to his head. The short time she'd had to endure the misery had been more than enough. She couldn't imagine living with it from day to day. Pain like that lessened with time, she knew, but it never completely faded away. She had come as close to losing a partner as she ever wanted to come.

Throughout the time she'd worked with Nick, Tracy had never known him to mention anyone that she would have interpreted as a friend, other than Schanke. She'd come to believe that he had no close friends, except of course for Natalie, and everyone knew, even if they didn't seem to themselves, that Nick and Natalie were much more than close friends. But, aside from Nat, it appeared that Nick had no one.

So she'd been both surprised and pleased when, a few months after the plane crash, it became evident that Nick had made a new friend. He'd mentioned Jacob's name in passing a couple of times, and when she'd asked who he was, Knight told her only that Simmons was the professor teaching the class he was taking. However, it soon became apparent that Professor Simmons meant more to Nick than just the teacher of a lecture. The evening Jacob and his son, Elliot, stopped by the precinct had been the only time Tracy witnessed Nick in the presence of the father and son, but it had been more than enough to show her just how close Knight had become to both of them. She'd never pictured her partner as the 'uncle' type, but seeing him interact with Elliot made her admit that not only would he make someone a good uncle, but he probably wouldn't make a shabby dad either. She'd felt fairly astonished by the realization.

Tracy took a third look at her watch as a thought dawned on her. Nick was probably out looking for the gift. She'd never seen him so concerned about something as simple as a birthday present-for a six-year-old, no less

The opening of Captain Reese's door interrupted Tracy's train of thought. Her boss stepped out of the office and quickly scanned the squad room before his eyes settled first on Nick's empty chair and then on Tracy. The scowl on his face spoke volumes, and Tracy braced herself for the irritated speech she was about to hear.

_Why is it Nick seems to be the cause of most of these little talks, but he's never around to hear any of them?_

She forced a smile in an effort to soothe the annoyed tension as Reese walked up to the desk she and Nick shared. But her smile didn't appear to have the desired effect. The sour look on her superior's face hadn't softened.

Captain Reese popped an antacid into his mouth. "Where's your partner, Detective Vetter? You two are supposed to be catching up on some paperwork. Together. You know what together means, don't you, detective?"

Tracy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The smile still played on her face, but happy was the last thing she felt at the moment.

_Damn you, Nick. _

She would cover for him, of course. Sometimes she didn't know why, but she would always cover for him. He was her partner. It was almost a reflex action. Choosing to ignore the last question, she responded, "Ah, Captain, I don't know where Nick is right now, but I'm sure he'll be here any minute. He probably just lost track of the time."

She groaned inwardly. _Wonderful, Vetter. How lame was that?_ Her eyes moved from Reese to the squad room door, and she said a silent thank you to the Almighty as she saw her tardy partner stroll into the room. _It's about time!_

Nick made his way over to the desk. He looked a little distracted, but that seemed to be a constant state for him lately.

The captain followed Tracy's gaze and turned to see his best detective join them at the table. Nick moved around the piece of furniture to stand behind his chair, resting his hands on the back.

A heavy sigh left Reese as he made a point of looking at his watch and then back to Nick. "Do you know what time it is, detective? You and your partner should be working on paperwork. Shouldn't you? I need those follow-ups before the end of the shift."

"I'm sorry, Captain. I know I'm late." Nick nodded as he apologized. He glanced at Tracy and then back to his boss. "We'll have the reports finished before the end of the night."

Reese's expression lost some of its severity as he accepted the apology and the reassurance. "Okay. See that you do." He looked from Nick to Tracy and then back to Nick. It appeared as if he was going to add something else, but changed his mind. Instead, he went back into his office and closed the door, mumbling all the way.

Relief moved over Tracy as Nick took his chair. She would have gotten kind of a perverse enjoyment watching her partner endure one of the lectures she had already been privy to, but she really didn't want to sit through another one herself. She was glad the captain hadn't blessed them with a sermon tonight, although she wasn't sure why they'd been spared.

Nick picked up the small stack of files Tracy had put on his desk and began leafing through them. Leaning forward in her chair, Tracy eyed Nick's bent head as she questioned him. "Have any luck with the hunt?" She was only guessing at the reason he was late, but she was sure her guess wasn't far off the mark.

Her partner looked up from the files, his gaze settling on her face. His expression relayed his defeat. She was right. Nick knew exactly to what she referred. "No. I went to a toy store and just couldn't find anything. It wasn't for lack of choices, though." He shook his head as he laid the files down and sat back in his chair. "Maybe there were too many choices. I didn't think finding a gift for a six-year-old would be this hard."

Tracy hesitated for a second. She didn't know how the man sitting across from her would take what she was about to say, but she went ahead and voiced her thoughts. "Well, Nick, if you ask me, I think you're making it a little harder than it has to be." She paused again. There was no sign of irritation in his expression, only a look of inquiry, so she continued. "I mean, let's face it. A six-year-old kid plays with a toy for a few days or weeks and then moves on to the next one. It's not like it's something he's going to have for the rest of his life. You can worry about giving those kinds of gifts when he gets a little older."

"I know, Trace." Nick accepted the input. "It's just that this is the first birthday I'll share with Elliot, and I want to make the gift special. I know it sounds silly, especially since we're talking about a young boy, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I want to give him something he'll have for the rest of his life. So I guess a toy's not such a good idea." He sat thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. "Looks like it's back to the drawing board." He tossed his partner a grateful smile. "Thanks for the help, Trace. At least now I'm sure about what I'm not going to get him."

She was warmed by his gratitude and returned the smile. "No problem, Nick. Although I don't know how much help I gave you. You still don't know what you are going to get him. When is Elliot's birthday anyway?"

His expression suddenly turned sheepish. "Day after tomorrow." Tracy didn't try to hide her surprise, and Nick acknowledged his predicament. "I know. I'm cutting it pretty close, but I'm sure I'll find something."

Tracy noted the determined gleam in her partner's eyes, and she too was sure he would come up with a gift in time for the big day. She'd never seen him fail at anything, and with the concern he was putting into this project, she was certain he would disappoint neither himself nor the boy. She still marveled at the closeness the two shared. One day she hoped to see Nick and Nat settled down, and her partner doting on children of his own. A smirk lifted a corner of Tracy's mouth at the thought of miniature Knights wrapping Daddy around their little fingers.

Nick's sigh interrupted her musings. He pulled his chair closer to the deck and once again picked up the files. "We'd better get cracking on the follow-ups or Reese will get cracking on us."

With a nod, Tracy turned back to her computer. "Right."

It turned out to be an excellent night to get the clean-up work done. Everything was surprisingly quiet. No new cases came in, and Nick and Tracy were able to take the completed reports to the captain around four A.M. Nick knocked on the office door. After a few seconds, a gruff, "Come in," sounded from inside.

The detectives entered the room to find their leader on the phone. A minute ticked by before he hung up. Nick placed the files on his deck. "Here ya go, Cap. The hard copies are there and Tracy got everything entered into the computer. We're all up to date."

Looking satisfied, Captain Reese picked up the folders and glanced through them. "Good." He shot the officers a sarcastic smile. "I knew you two could work together if you put your minds to it." Tracy and Nick exchanged slightly abashed glances as Reese looked at his watch. "You both might as well book off a few minutes early. I can't remember when we've had such an uneventful shift. See you tonight." He lowered his attention back to the papers in front of him.

Tracy made a beeline for the door, thankful for the clean getaway. She tossed a "Thanks, Cap. See you tonight," over her shoulder as she left the office.

"Yeah, thanks, Captain." Nick turned to make his retreat, but was stopped by his boss's voice.

"Ah, detective? You do know what time tonight, don't you?" Reese's face was all business, but the amusement in the captain's eye told Nick he was receiving a friendly reminder.

Detective Knight smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I think I've got it down." With that, he took his leave.

End Chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Natalie Lambert sat at her desk looking down at an open file. She was adding the last of her autopsy findings into the tape recorder when her favorite patient entered the lab. Nick walked over to lean against the counter in front of her desk and smiled a silent greeting. The coroner returned the smile as she ended her statement. "Cause of death, strangulation."

With a click, the recorder stopped and Natalie put it down on the desk. She looked up into Nick's handsome face as she sat back in her chair. He looked tired. He looked tired a lot lately, and it concerned her a great deal. "Are you finished for the night?" She glanced at the clock. "Time off for good behavior?"

A short laugh left the detective as he pulled a hand out of a coat pocket and absentmindedly fiddled with a microscope sitting on the counter. "Well, not exactly. I wasn't quite the model employee tonight, but it was slow, and after Tracy and I finished catching up on some paperwork, Reese let us leave a little early."

Nat grinned. _Not quite the model employee? Can you say understatement, boys and girls? I knew you could._

Nick's independence and occasional bending of the rules had put him at odds with the department and his superiors several times over the years. Being a vampire allowed him a deeper knowledge of certain situations, and when he went off on what looked like a crazy tangent to the mortals he worked with, it only confirmed their view of him as a half-cocked renegade. His success, however, always quieted the grumbling and readjusted the attitudes. Since Reese let him go early, she was fairly certain tonight's infraction had been a minor one. "Translate 'wasn't quite the model employee' for me. Have you been messing with the captain's ulcer again, Nick?"

He continued to tamper with the objectives on the microscope as he cast Nat a roguish smile. "Oh, I don't think I caused too much excess acid tonight. I was a few minutes late. That's all."

The smile made Natalie's pulse rate jump. Her feelings for Nick, along with his striking physical appearance, combined to do the most terribly unpredictable things to her composure sometimes. She dropped her gaze to the desktop and took a mental deep breath. The out-of-control feeling frightened and annoyed her, but there seemed to be little she could do about the way she felt. She loved him more than anyone she'd known, and his effect on her went far beyond anything she had ever experienced. Did she really want to do anything about it? If the truth be known, the feeling excited her in a way she didn't want to examine too closely. Maybe that was what bothered her more than anything?

She turned her attention back to Nick's playful expression and tried to get her mind back to the conversation. "Late? Don't tell me you overslept? No, on second thought, tell me you overslept. It's such a mortal thing to do-hitting the snooze button and thinking to yourself, 'Just five more minutes.'" She closed her eyes as she said the last words.

Detective Knight chuckled softly. "Sorry, Nat. I didn't oversleep. But you might be just as pleased with the real reason I was late. How mortal is looking for a birthday present for a new six-year-old?"

Nat's eyes popped open, and her dreamy smile widened. _Elliot Simmons._

Meeting the boy and his parents had been one of the most positive things that had happened in Nick's life over the last several months, if not _the_ most positive thing. They'd come along at a time when he needed a fresh connection with the mortal world. And surprisingly, he'd allowed himself the closeness.

His acceptance was encouraging. She'd had little else to be encouraged about lately. Nick's enthusiasm for their search was slowly diminishing. But this one instance gave her hope that he would overcome the setbacks and put more of an effort into working toward a cure. She hoped. She would always hope. And although her exposure to 'The Jerry Show' had brought her to the brink, and she'd come close to washing her hands of everything, in the end, the experience had convinced her once and for all that she would never give up on Nick. Never.

Nat leaned forward in her chair and rested her arms across the desk as she looked up at him. "I'd say that qualifies as very mortal. Still haven't found anything?"

"No." Dejection shaded Nick's expression. "And I'm running out of time. I want it to be something special, Nat. Something that he'll keep."

Natalie moved her attention from Nick's face to the hand that was still fascinated by the microscope and then back to his face. She couldn't believe how hard he was making this one little task. "So, along with the clothes we eliminated last week, you've now set aside toys as a possibility? You're not leaving yourself open for much, Nick. He's only six, ya know." He shot her an irritated look, and she held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I know. I know. This is the first and you want it to be special."

Since Natalie was not as close to the boy as Nick, she really had no other ideas to contribute. When he'd asked her for some suggestions last week, she'd inquired about any particular likes Elliot might have, but the detective had been rather vague. She'd only had a couple of opportunities to meet Jacob and his family, and Nick, as usual, didn't talk about them as much as one might expect. What little she had been around the Simmons family had shown them to be very pleasant and likable, but Natalie wasn't on the same wavelength, so to speak. Jacob, Elizabeth and Nick shared interests that she did not have, and even though she loved Nick, she did not share his closeness with the Simmons'. So, she had no idea what a 'special' gift for Elliot might mean.

Nick remained silent while his attention moved back to the microscope. He was still playing with it. Natalie got up and walked over to stand in front of him. "Look, Detective Knight, I know you're a little frustrated right now, but this is an expensive piece of equipment, and you're going to do some irrevocable damage if you don't give it a rest." She smiled at his bent head as she reached out and stayed the pale hand on the microscope.

As expected, his skin was very cool, but the contact sent a warm excitement rushing through her body. Again, her pulse jump, and when Nick raised his head to look into her eyes, she knew he had heard the disturbance. His hand moved from the instrument to capture hers in a light, but firm grip, and Natalie couldn't seem to find her voice. The out-of-control feeling had returned, and she was drowning in the deep blue of his eyes.

As they continued to silently gaze at one another, Nick's thumb started a slow, soothing movement across the back of Natalie's hand. She closed her eyes against the turbulence the simple, yet seductive action created in her mind and body, and against the intoxicating desire she saw on Nick's face. A desire they had both decided, for now at least, was too dangerous for them to pursue. She heard his whispered "Natalie" softly resound in her ears.

_God help me. I want him. I love him._ She struggled to get her feelings back under some kind of control_. This is crazy. What's the matter with you? Get a hold of yourself, Lambert! _

She opened her eyes to find the need on Nick's face had't lessened, and she was once again floundering in the cool depths of his eyes. He whispered her name a second time. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. Somehow, she was losing herself in him. As if she was being drawn into him. She wanted him to hold her...to love her. She wanted to become part of him. She wanted... A small voice somewhere amidst the chaos of her thoughts reminded her exactly what that meant, and she began to fight for some semblance of equilibrium. She had to break the spell he was weaving.

_Spell?_ What was she thinking? Was he weaving a spell, or was she just overwhelmed by her need for closer physical contact with him? She worked to find her tongue. _Elliot. We're talking about Elliot._

When she finally found it, her voice sounded shaky and uncertain to her ears. "Ah...ah...music. How about music, Nick?" With the question, the detective's expression became inquisitive, and the caressing movement of his thumb stopped. Natalie breathed a silent sigh of relief before continuing. "I know you and Jacob share an interest in classical music. Has Elliot shown any interest or desire to play? I know he's young, but the younger the better. Isn't that what they say?" Was she babbling? She hoped it didn't sound as if she were babbling. "You couldn't very well buy him a grand piano. Not that you couldn't afford one. Maybe you could start him out with something small that he could learn on. Say, maybe...well, I don't know. I'm just thinking out loud here."

Nick's expression turned thoughtful. He stood silently for a moment as he considered what she'd said. Then an awareness seemed to come to him and along with it a smile. He caught Natalie by surprise as he leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek. "That's it, Nat. I've just thought of a great gift. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. Thank you, thank you." He planted another quick kiss on her cheek as he captured her other hand and held both of them in front of him. "I knew you would come up with something. Thanks."

Confused seemed an inadequate word to describe her state of mind at the moment as Natalie tried to gather her thoughts and recover from the previous few minutes. Obviously her music suggestion had been an inspiration, but an inspiration for what? "Well, I'm glad to be of help, detective." The slightly perplexed expression was replaced with a satisfied smile. "Mind telling me what exactly I've come up with?"

The smile continued to play on his mouth while Nick shook his head. "No, I don't mind, but I'd really rather show you. How about coming over to the loft after your shift?"

Natalie hesitated. After what just happened, she didn't know if that would be such a good idea. She had her wits about her again, but she didn't want to tempt fate. She was very conscious of the cool hands that held hers as she searched Nick's face for any sign of the passion she'd seen there only moments ago. None was evident. The contented smile and a look of anticipation as he awaited her answer were all she noted. He appeared completely oblivious to the confusion he had created only minutes earlier, and looked as if he hadn't been affected at all. Maybe she'd just imagined the whole thing? _I don't think so! _

She most certainly hadn't imagined her feelings, but maybe she'd seen more than was actually there in Nick's? Did he even realize what he had done? Had he really done anything? Surely he wouldn't have tried to entice her on purpose. Their feelings for one another just got a little out of hand, nothing more. He knew, better than she, how dangerous it was, no matter how much they both longed for the closeness. He would never try to influence her in that way. Besides, he couldn't.

She gave herself a hard mental shake as she tried to rationalize her reaction to Nick's caress. _You're tired. You're not thinking straight. That's why you're so hypersensitive this morning. You're letting your imagination, and your love for this man, run away with you._

She brought her attention back to her friend's question. Her curiosity was aroused, and she did want to see the gift Nick had decided on for his young friend. She smiled up at the attractive detective. "Yeah, sure. I can't wait to get a load of this 'great' present."

"Wonderful. I'll see you in about an hour or so." He lifted her hands one by one to his mouth and placed a kiss on the back of each one. Giving them a gentle squeeze, he released her and headed out of the lab.

Natalie watched Nick's retreating back as a troubled frown creased her brow. His recent setbacks had done some serious damage to his control. Maybe there was more to this little incident than she wanted to believe? She tried to convince herself that there was no incident and it was all in her exhausted mind, but she wouldn't completely accept that explanation. She recalled, only a few weeks ago, when she'd watched in shock as Nick hypnotized Detective Fullford at the precinct in front of dozens of officers. His fascination with the virtual reality vampire game had done much to weaken both his judgment and conviction. He told her that once he stopped playing the game its effects on him had stopped, but she had her doubts. Was this morning proof that he still hadn't shaken its influence? But had anything sinister really happened this morning, or were four days of fifteen-hour shifts starting to take their toll?

She turned back to her desk to stack the report she'd been working on in the 'Out' box, and put the tape recorder in the drawer. She would go over to the loft to check on Nick, see the mysterious gift and then get back to her place. Since she still hadn't completely convinced herself that what happened was nothing more than a fatigue-affected imagination working overtime, she decided not to confront Nick with her thoughts. She really needed a good day's rest.

End Chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Nick slid the elevator door closed and leaned back against it as he ran a hand over his weary eyes. What the hell did he think he was doing? Pushing himself off the door, he went to the refrigerator, jerked it open and reached past two protein drinks to grab a bottle of blood. He yanked out the cork and downed half of the contents. Lowering the steadying liquid from his lips, he closed his eyes as its soothing effect penetrated his hungry body.

But his body hungered for much more than cow's blood. He looked down at the hand that, not long ago, had caressed Natalie's and remembered the delicious warmth. The softness of her skin. The feel of the pulse in her wrist as it beat steadily, if not a little too quickly, beneath his fingers. Her captivating scent. Her...

"No!" His shout cut through the disturbing thoughts and the silence blanketing loft.

He pulled out another bottle and slammed the refrigerator door shut. He carried his meal into the living room and sat it on the coffee table. The remote button shut out the cleansing rays of the new day that danced on the horizon.

After pulling off his coat and throwing it on the back of a chair, he fell onto the couch and picked up the open bottle. Another long drink almost emptied the container. He leaned back and once again closed his eyes. What he'd done this morning was unforgivable. What happened? Why had he had such a complete lapse in his control? He hadn't seen it coming. It hadn't been a conscious decision. It had somehow just happened.

Nat's delicate warmth had touched his hand, and the craving for more intimate contact took charge. He'd listened to her heartbeat, sensed her desire and wanted nothing more at that moment than to take her inside himself. Feel her softness against him. Taste and experience her life's essence as it bathed his mouth and spoke to his mind. He loved her, and the desire for the physical side of that love had reared its head and usurped his unsound control. How could he have let it happen? The physical side of love for a vampire meant certain death or eternal darkness for the mortal object of that love, and he would inflict neither on Natalie. But hadn't he come dangerously close?

He had gazed into her lovely eyes and begun gently pulling her to him. Softly calling to her heart. Playing on her need. Pushing aside her better judgment. Even though she was a resister, the strong feelings they shared for one another made her very susceptible to his subtle persuasion, and he'd found himself using that persuasion to break through her poise. It was beyond wrong! Was he really that weak? Had the circumstances of the past year battered his resolve that badly?

Worse than anything, he had betrayed her trust in the most base way possible. The vampire had taken over and used his powers to achieve what he wanted with consideration for nothing else. It had used her faith in his control. It had manipulated her belief in his determination. She knew what he was and did not fear him. She accepted him, and, God help her, loved him. She believed that his desire for the goal kept her safe from the evil that lurked within him. She had faith that he despised his darkness so much that he would never let it touch her. That belief and faith had made her vulnerable to the malignancy that had once again started to slowly reassert its control, and it frightened him. His weakness disgusted him.

A chill move down Nick's back as he opened his eyes, staring into the dark fireplace. He loved her. He wanted her. But he would never sacrifice her life or mortality for that desire. Never. What the hell was the matter with him? He had to get his act together, get hold of himself. This was insane.

The steep slope on which he balanced was becoming slippery once more, and his feet slid back another fraction. As he again recognized his faulty stasis, he vowed never to take Natalie with him.

Emptying the bottle in his hand, he returned it to the table and uncorked the second. The hunger had subsided only slightly, and he took another long drink of the life sustaining blood. Nat would be arriving anytime. He had to get a grip on himself. After what had happened, he wondered at his apparent lack of wisdom in asking her to come to the loft. He had been trying so hard to regain some normalcy and hide his shame over what had transpired moments before that he'd impulsively let the question fly. He did want her to see the flute, but he could have picked a better time and place to show it to her. He took another drink and the hunger subsided a little more. With the blood in his system and the shock and fear the earlier incident had instilled in him, he was fairly certain Nat's visit would go smoothly, but he would be very careful.

_Nat. What have I done? _

Nick got up from the couch and started to pace around the room as the need to escape suddenly moved over him, the desire to retreat fiercely taking hold. He wanted to withdraw. To find refuge from the shame and guilt. Forget the struggle, the weakness and the self-loathing, if only for a short while.

He walked back to the coffee table and finished off the second bottle. The hunger was easing; at least that was something. He looked at the bottle in his hand and then at the one sitting on the table. Natalie knew he had been drinking more blood, but having two empty bottles sitting out when she arrived was still not a good idea. He carried them into the kitchen.

The blood had helped calm his hunger, but had done little to ease the need for escape. If anything, the twinge of guilt he felt every time he drank the nourishing substance had increased his longing for relief.

As he lifted the bottles to put them in the garbage can, he conceded that it wasn't really a place he longed for, but a person. A companion. He needed to be with someone who completely understood what he was experiencing. Someone he could talk openly with and not fear seeing the disappointment and disgust he would see on Natalie's face. One of his own kind. A friend. A wife. A lover. Janette.

"Janette." The name left his lips as her beautiful face entered his mind's eye. In the same instance, one of the bottles slipped from his grasp and shattered on the kitchen floor. "Damn." The irritated exclamation was no more than a whisper as he put the remaining bottle in the waste bin and retrieved a broom.

Nick stared down at the broken glass as the feelings he had experienced when LaCroix told him Janette was no longer in Toronto came flooding back. She had left him again, and this time he had gotten no good-bye and no explanation. His master had told him that it was her time to leave, and maybe it was true, but it was a hollow, sanitized excuse and did nothing to ease his pain. He'd gone to Janette for companionship. He'd needed to talk to her. Tell her his feelings after his mortal friend's death.

Instead, he had been faced with the discovery that his closest friend throughout the centuries had also left him. The realization had almost been too much to bear. Janette's sudden departure had made him feel abandoned, alone and lost. He still found it hard to believe that she was gone, and he still asked himself why. He wasn't certain how long he would have to wait to hear the answer to that question, but he would, one day, hear it from Janette. She would tell him why.

He finished sweeping the glass onto the dustpan and tossed it in the trash. With the broom and pan back in their place, he glanced at his watch. He decided he'd better make sure the flute was where he remembered packing it away, and climbed the stairs to his bedroom where he pulled a small crate from the closet. Kneeling in front of the plain wooden box, he raised the lid to reveal the small treasures he kept tucked away. Most of the articles were treasures only in the personal sense. Several old letters, a few sketches and a photograph or two. He knew the flute was somewhere in amongst the collection.

He pushed aside an envelope, and his search for the instrument was interrupted when he caught sight of an old picture of Janette. It had been a long time since he'd looked in the chest, and he didn't remember the picture right away. He picked it up to examine it more closely. Running a gentle finger down a faded, crinkled cheek, the moment in time came surging back. He recollected the cool, spring evening 75 years ago in Paris when she had insisted they stop at the small riverside booth so she could have it taken. She was so lovely. A smile touched his mouth as he remembered the joy of that moment. For a while, they had been happy.

The smile faded as quickly as the memory made him realize just how much he missed her. She had brought a stability to his shaky existence, the strength of which he was only now beginning to comprehend. She provided a comfort and release that he had found himself longing for several times over the past year.

'I like it when you need me.' He recalled her words as they stood by the waterfront. He could still feel her touch and the weight of her head as it rested on his shoulder. She had forgiven him his selfishness and offered her support and compassion with a complete understanding of his need. She hadn't judged him. She had wanted nothing more than to soothe his anguish. The close call in the morgue earlier that morning flashed in his mind, and the desire to retreat rushed back to the fore. He needed her now.

The photograph slipped from Nick's fingers and fell back into the box. With that need came the guilt. Janette was part of an existence he was trying to leave behind, and it was impossible to separate the two. His love and need for her helped keep him tied to the world of darkness. Even though she was gone from him now, he knew they would someday meet again. Did he want to cut himself off completely? Could he? The questions, and the doubt they revealed, weighed heavily on his heart.

_And what about Nat?_

His uneasiness increased. She knew what kind of relationship he shared with Janette, and the knowledge was a source of pain for her.

_Nat, I've never wanted to hurt you._

He lowered his eyes back to the picture in the box. She knew about the relationship, but she didn't completely understand the complexity of the connection. How could she? She wasn't a vampire. She wouldn't want to hear that Janette's presence had gone a long way toward shoring up his control, especially where his mortal love was concerned. It was hard to admit even to himself, but he could not deny the truth. The release Janette had provided gave him the strength to resist the temptations of his fictitious mortal existence. She had been a buffer. An ironic type of protection for Natalie, and a safety net for him. The net, however, was no longer here, and he had to adjust to its absence. He had grown to depend on it too much over the past several years, and now he would have to function without the support.

He ran a tired hand through his hair. Support or no, he couldn't endanger Nat again. What happened at the morgue this morning would not be repeated, no matter what he had to do to prevent it. Natalie was everything bright and good about his search, and he would not soil her with his darkness. She was the goal. Just as Jacob and his family were the goal. They were what waited for him should he ever reach the end of his quest. He would not tarnish them with the evil that held him captive.

Nick closed his eyes. The end of his search. Would he ever reach the end? The end that he wanted? Nat's lovely, trusting face appeared before him. He longed for a mortal life with her. He'd dreamed about their children. Their son. But was it really possible? Again the doubts crowded his thoughts. Could he ever break free of the darkness shrouding his soul? No matter how much he fought it, he couldn't prevent the uncertainty from building.

Opening his eyes, he banished the nagging apprehension. Nick moved the picture and several other objects aside as he dug deeper in his effort to find the pipe. Just as his hand encountered the carved piece of wood, he heard the sound of an approaching heartbeat.

_Nat. _

She was in the elevator on her way up to the loft. Nick pulled the old instrument from its hiding place at the bottom of the box and pushed the closed case back into the closet. He straightened and took a deep breath. His heightened awareness gave him a guarded confidence in his control as he turned and headed downstairs to show Natalie the beautiful flute.

LaCroix took another sip from his glass. As he set his meal down on the end table, the satisfied smile moved back into place. Of late, his son's thoughts and feelings had been a source of delightful encouragement for him. The battle raged more fiercely than normal this morning, and he reveled in the chaos as a flood of jumbled emotions washed over the connection between him and his son. Confusion. Fear. Love. Doubt. Anger. Sorrow. Determination. Longing. And, of course, the ever present guilt.

What had caused this particular elevation in the struggle, he wasn't sure, but he welcomed the incident, whatever it had been. It, along with the overall increase in Nicholas' inner conflict, gave LaCroix reason for a renewed hope that the boy would finally see the futility of his search for mortality and come back into the fold. Nicholas had faced obstacles and temptations that steered him back toward the direction of his true nature, and Lucien happily anticipated the ever-growing influence of the events.

The restored civility he now shared with his child also gave him reason for optimism, but he did not allow that optimism to fog his reasoning. His protege was stubborn to the extreme, and he knew that Nicholas would fight to the bitter end. Still, the heightened turbulence was a good sign. He felt his son's resolve slipping away ever so slowly. No more than a trickle really, but the loss was definitely palpable.

Closing his eyes, LaCroix pulled on the thread. _Let it go, Nicholas. Stop this constant torture and release the guilt. _

He only wanted what was best for his favorite creation, and relinquishing this silly quest, and the torment that went along with it, was most emphatically the best thing for Nicholas. Opening his eyes, Lucien retrieved his glass and drained the contents. He rose from his chair and moved toward the bedroom. He would rest this day with a sense of great anticipation.

End Chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Nick closed the bedroom door behind him and paused as he turned to go downstairs, the tug on his thoughts stopping his movement. This time he didn't fight the call. He was so tired.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed and allowed the communication. LaCroix. The concern was identifiable, along with the frustration. Nick also felt the encouragement and thought to himself, _You'll never understand._ He opened his eyes as he whispered, "Or perhaps you understand more than I want to admit." His gaze dropped to the door of the elevator as it slid open, and Natalie walked into the loft.

She took the bag she was carrying to the kitchen table and glanced around for any signs of life. "Anybody home?" She shrugged out of her coat and draped it over the back of a chair.

Abandoning the connection with his master, Nick pushed aside his dissenting thoughts and continued toward the top of the staircase. "Yeah, Nat. Hi." He moved the flute behind his back and started down the stairs.

Natalie looked up to see him reach the bottom step and walk into the kitchen. The fatigue she noticed earlier at the morgue was etched a little deeper on his face. She wouldn't stay long. He, like herself, needed some rest.

As he approached, she noted that something else lurked on the handsome face, in the haunted eyes. Shame? Sorrow? Defeat? She couldn't be sure. And before she had a chance to decide what the feeling was, the expression slipped away to be replaced by a tenuous smile. The look had only been there for an instant, but it worried her. Looks like that, no matter how fleeting, worried her more than usual these days. Something was bothering him. Her questions about the occurrence earlier that morning ran through her head.

_No._ She didn't believe Nick had anything to do with what came over her this morning. Anything other than being the man she loved and desired at any rate.

As she continued to search his face, Natalie looked through the grin and saw the sadness lingering in his eyes. The need to comfort him struck her hard, but she couldn't help him if she didn't know what troubled him. She hesitated a moment, uncertain as to his reaction, but then forged ahead. "Nick, is something wrong?"

Her question obviously took him by surprise. His smile disappeared as his gaze fell to the floor. Discomfort quickly crossed his face before he masked his features. Slowly shaking his head, he raised his eyes to her again. "Wrong?" He faltered a moment, as if picking his words. "I'm fine, Nat. Things...are fine. Just a little tired I guess."

The smile he forced back to his lips did little to reassure her. He was not 'fine'. Hurt stabbed her heart at his unwillingness to confide in her. Irritation crept into her voice in spite of her effort to keep it out. "Okay. You don't want to talk about it. So what else is new?"

She paused and took a deep breath. Sometimes he frustrated her beyond distraction. After all they had been through and in spite of the feelings they shared for one another, he still couldn't bring himself to completely open up to her. The fact wounded her deeply. It also served as an unpleasant reminder of just how little she really knew about him, and how great the distance between them still remained.

Over the years he had confided much to her, but she wasn't naive enough not to know that there were still a great many things he kept to himself. The vampire, its history and influence, stood between them. Sometimes the chasm seemed unbridgeable, and sometimes it seemed not to exist at all-well almost. What was it that he felt he couldn't talk to her about? Was it fear that accompanied the sadness in his eyes?

Nick made no move to respond. As she stared back into his solemn face some of the hurt and exasperation drained away. She didn't want to be angry with him. He didn't need her anger. He needed her patience and understanding. He needed her support. An encouraging smile curved her mouth as she offered that support. "Nick..." Stepping forward, she cupped a gentle hand on his cheek. "Know that I'm here for you whenever you need me, if you'll let me. Never forget that."

Nick's eyes never left hers as he reached up and took the soothing hand from his face, wrapping it in his own. His expression was filled with such thankful tenderness the remainder of the hurt left her. A loving warmth took its place, and she gave herself up to the contentment the warmth provided.

That contentment was short-lived, however, as, after only a few seconds the tenderness faded into sadness and...confusion? "Nat, I'm sorry. But I can't..." His words trailed off into silence, but he recovered quickly, his voice quiet with reverence. "I know, Nat. And it means more to me than you'll ever know. I... Thank you." He brought her hand to his lips.

Natalie closed her eyes with the cool contact of his mouth, a tingle running through her. When Nick's lips left the back of her hand, she looked up into his brooding eyes. She wished with all her heart that he would unburden himself, but she knew better than to push too hard. "All right, Nick. I'll let it go for now. When you're ready to talk to me, you will. Right?" He nodded an agreement and reluctantly released her hand.

Nat turned her attention to the arm that rested behind his back and smiled. She leaned her head to one side in a playful attempt to steal a look at what he held in his hand. "Is that the 'great' gift?"

He returned the smile and presented the flute for her inspection.

Her eyes widened with delight when she beheld the beautifully carved and painted piece of wood. An inquisitive hand reached out to touch the antique instrument. "Oh, Nick. It's wonderful."

She gingerly took the flute from him and examined it more closely. She guessed it to be about ten inches long and not much more than a half an inch in diameter. The carving was intricate and delicate. Thin vines, with their leaves and small blue flowers, twisted around the flute and wove in and out of the areas between the holes on the topside of the wood. Four yellow birds perched on various parts of the vine between the bell-shaped flowers. A sun, with its bright rays, shown down on the other occupants of the instrument from a place just below the mouthpiece. The passage of time had faded and muted what were once, she was sure, vibrant colors, but it was still an impressive sight. She also noted the light-colored wood from which the flute was carved, but couldn't tell what kind it was.

Natalie lifted her gaze back to Nick. She remembered the swan harp and knew the flute also had to have some kind of a history. She wanted to hear the story. "It's truly beautiful, Nick. Did you carve it?"

Shaking his head, he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "No. It was made for me by a friend about 300 years ago." He paused as the gleam of a distant, happy memory flashed in his eye.

Nat waited for him to continue, but he was lost in the past, and she knew she would have to coax him back before she would hear anything further. Reaching out with the flute, she gently poked him in the ribs. The glazed look disappeared, and he smiled down at the impatient expression on her face. Anticipation echoed in her voice as she encouraged him to tell her more. "Well?"

His smile turned into a mischievous grin. "Well what?"

Natalie rolled her eyes in frustration. He knew very well what. "Well... I'm curious, Nick. Just like the harp and Erica's doll, the flute and its story serve as a window to the past...your past. I'm eager to get a glimpse whenever the opportunity presents itself. Tell me how this lovely instrument found its way into your life."

The playful smirk once again became a warm smile before he turned and walked into the living room. Stopping in front of the fireplace, he turned back to face her. "There isn't really much to tell, Nat. Philip carved it for me as a thank-you gift."

Following him into the living room, she prompted again, "Philip? Thank-you gift?"

Nick elaborated as Natalie took a seat on the couch. "Philip Bass. He owned a modest shoe shop in London." Nick's eyes left Nat to look...nowhere, really. He stared over her head, but she knew from his expression that he wasn't seeing anything in the loft. He saw his friend. The image appeared to stay with him only a few seconds as his sights rested once again on her face. He motioned toward the flute in her hand. "As you can see, he was a very talented craftsman. Being a cobbler was his livelihood, but music was his love. He played his creations as beautifully as he carved them. He wasn't a bad teacher, either. Michael, his grandson, was an excellent student. At only eight years of age, he showed a genius for the instrument. Philip was incredibly proud of him. He was a source of great joy for the old gentleman, in both his musical talent and his willingness to help with the shop."

"Michael worked with his grandfather?" Natalie's question broke another short silence.

Some of the happy countenance faded from Nick's face as he nodded. "He lived and worked with his grandfather. Philip's son and daughter-in-law had been killed about a year before I met him. He became the boy's guardian."

A pang of sorrow twisted Nat's heart. The scenario hit very close to home, and sympathy permeated her words. "How sad."

The vampire agreed. "Yes. But the depth of love and closeness Philip and Michael shared gave them the strength to survive the tragedy and go on with their lives. So, in that respect, they were very lucky."

Nat's sorrow turned to pain as she thought of her grandmother. She had forgiven Nana, but she would not, could not, forget the agony of the time spent in the older woman's care. Natalie's gaze had dropped from Nick to the flute, and she looked up again as she discarded the unpleasant recollection. "Love and closeness make a powerful combination. You're right. They were...very lucky."

"Nat? Are you okay?" Nick took a step closer to her in his concern.

She realized he must have read the sadness in her face. She nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay. I just hate to hear about kids losing their parents, even if they did live 300 years ago." She forced a tight smile. "Don't stop now. Tell me more."

Nick bowed his head in a gesture of compliance. "I was a patron of Philip's shop. I'd seen him working on a flute and admired his handiwork. We became friendly, and one evening he invited me for dinner. I declined the meal, of course, but told him I would stop by later in the evening. That night I was treated to beautiful music and pleasant conversation. But the serenity of the evening ended very abruptly when Michael stepped out into the shop to retrieve an extra lantern. He'd only been gone for a minute when I became aware of the presence of another mortal in the building. Then, Philip and I both heard a short, muffled struggle. He grabbed a lantern and rushed out into the shop before I could stop him."

"Oh, no." The soft expression of anxiety escaped Natalie as she leaned forward slightly in her seat. She hadn't been aware that she'd said anything until she realized Nick had once again stopped his narration. She barely heard his whispered "Gentle heart," as the tender, understanding smile crossed his lips.

Her heart fluttered with a combination of feeling for him and a touch of embarrassment for herself. Her subtle outburst had been impulsive. A characteristic that denoted a lack of control and made her uncomfortable. Her eyes moved from Nick's sensitive look to concentrate on the third button of his shirt. A thorough examination only took a couple of seconds, and she returned her gaze to his face as he continued.

"I followed Philip to find an intruder in the store holding a knife to young Michael's throat. The old man barged ahead and garnered the trespasser's attention while I stayed back and sneaked around behind the would-be robber to end his awkward burglary attempt. Philip was overjoyed and extremely grateful for his grandson's safety and showed me his gratitude in the best way he knew. He crafted the beautiful instrument you hold in your hands."

Despite the fact she knew things had to turn out happily, Nat had gotten caught up in the brief tale and was relieved as Nick told her the boy and his grandfather had made it through the experience unscathed. Her attention shifted back to the object in her lap and a satisfied sigh escaped her. The mortals had survived thanks to the tortured vampire standing before her.

Nick walked over to stand by Natalie and stared down at the flute. "When Philip gave it to me, he said music was the most wonderful gift a person could give, and he hoped that one day I would be able to pass the flute on to one of my children. My children."

The note of sadness returned to his tone with the last repeated words. Natalie met the sorrow that also reflected in his eyes, and she shared his grief. Grief for children that would never be?

She wanted a family. She wanted a family with Nick, and only Nick. But would she find a cure in time to make that dream come true? She honestly didn't know. All she did know was that she would continue to work and hope, and of course, love.

Hearing Philip's wish for his friend brought with it an understanding. Natalie was now mindful of the significance the flute held, especially when given to Elliot.

"When you brought up the idea of music this morning, it hit me. I guess I've been so busy looking that I didn't see something sitting right under my nose. Elizabeth has mentioned that Elliot's showing, much to her delight, an interest in music. I hadn't thought about the flute for years, but this morning, thanks to you, it came back to me. I think Elliot might enjoy having something basic to experiment with." Nick had turned abruptly from Natalie as if to physically push the longing and pain of unborn children from his thoughts and took his place back by the fireplace. He stood with his back to her, and she got up from the couch to join him. As she approached, she heard his muffled, "I hope he treasures it and keeps it always."

She stopped just behind him and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Giving the flute means more than presenting a child with a simple gift for his birthday, doesn't it, Nick? This is a chance to fulfill Philip's wish for his creation, isn't it? A chance to pass the flute on to, perhaps not your son, but a boy who has endeared himself to you almost as strongly as a son. A chance to see the flute become part of a family's history, to be cherished and passed on like Philip had wanted. And in a small way, a chance for you to become part of that normal, family history as the story of how the flute came to be in the family filters down through time. Or maybe it's not that involved. Maybe it's just a hope that Elliot will prize it, and one day, in the spirit of love in which it was presented to him, give it to one of his children."

Nick turned his head to look at Natalie, an astonished smile on his face. "You're amazing, Nat. Sometimes I think you can read my mind."

She handed the flute back to him as she thought, _Oh, how I wish. It would make things so much easier sometimes._ But she kept that desire to herself as she spoke. "Not as amazing as all that, Nick. Your words are very revealing, and I know how you feel about Elliot."

He turned completely to face her. "You're right, as usual. He's very special to me, and I would love to see him enjoy the flute and someday give it to a child of his own."

Nick's features softened as he talked about the youngster, and once again Nat found herself amazed by this self-called evil creature's capacity for love and tenderness. She wished with every fiber that he could be convinced of his goodness. It annoyed her how he was always more than willing to chide himself for the wickedness of his past and the darkness that still, he believed, colored his soul, but was never prepared to acknowledge the light that shown brightly from his heart. A light, she believed, that would one day help them banish the vampire forever.

A little of the gentleness vanished from his expression. He was silent for a moment and then continued. "I suppose I'm being selfish by giving it to him. It's something I want to do very much, but I can't help wondering if he'll really like the present. I don't want to disappoint him. Maybe I'm giving the flute more for my satisfaction than for Elliot's?"

Nat smiled tenderly at Nick's concern. Second guessing himself and questioning his motives weren't new practices for this vampire. Heaven forbid he should give himself a break and accept that what he was doing was a simple gesture of love. But, she had to admit, she could see his point. Although selfish struck her as rather a harsh word. After all, the flute was probably worth a pretty penny, so in that regard it was a very generous gift indeed. Still, Natalie also had her doubts as to Elliot's reaction to the instrument.

Natalie shook her head. "You're not being selfish, Nick.

But...Elliot's...young. Don't be too disappointed if he's not as taken with the flute as you would like. If his fascination with music is sincere, and he sticks with it, you've chosen the perfect gift, and he'll grow to appreciate it more as he gets older. If not...well, I still have the feeling he'll like anything his favorite police detective gives him."

Her positive words were met with an appreciative smile as Nick leaned forward to place a light kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, Nat. I hope you're right."

She tossed him a playfully indignant frown. "Wha'da you mean, you hope? Of course I'm right. Didn't you just tell me I usually am?" With an impish wink, she turned to walk into the kitchen where she'd left her bag on the table. She started rummaging through it and pulled out a plastic container. As she looked up from the bag Nick put the flute on an end table and followed her. He stood on the opposite side of the table, and she offered him the large cup. "I've made another adjustment in the recipe, not as much of the iron supplement. Hopefully it'll go down a tad easier."

The immortal pulled his yuck-a-protein-drink face. "I'm not really hungry right now, Nat. Can I try it later?"

A pang of disappointment accompanied her frown. He was stalling. The protein shakes had been going over very poorly recently, more so than was usual. His attitude toward her cocktails could never have been described as enthusiastic, but she could hardly get him to take a sip of one nowadays. She was sure she could open the refrigerator and find the drinks she'd given him last week, untouched. He just didn't seem to want to try anymore, and it frightened her. She could feel him slipping further and further away.

The strained look on Nick's face faded into a relenting grin. "Okay, Nat. Hand it over."

Her expression brightened as she gladly passed the container to him. Unconsciously biting her lower lip, Nat watched him open the lid and take a sniff. He wrinkled his nose in light-hearted disapproval before putting the cup to his mouth. Much to her amazement, he finished the shake in one long drink. When he lowered the cup, Natalie eagerly searched his face for a reaction. The disgust that usually went along with his consumption of one of her concoctions was surprisingly absent. He certainly didn't look as if he loved it, but the lack of blatant displeasure was in itself heartening.

It quickly became apparent, however, that he was fighting to keep a straight face, trying to mask the nausea the drink made him feel. As some of the air left her balloon of encouragement, Nat also acknowledged how the attempted cover-up struck her as odd. When it came to the blood alternatives she made for him, Nick had never tried to hide his dislike before now. He had no compunction about telling her how awful he thought every one of her mixtures was. For whatever reason, this morning he appeared to be trying very hard not to disappoint her. She recalled his unwillingness to confide in her when she first arrived and wondered if this extra effort had anything to do with that.

_Come on, Lambert. Give the Sherlock Holmes impression a rest, will ya? He's trying, for cryin' out loud. That's all you want, isn't it? _

It was true. He finished the shake and, so far, had said nothing negative about the experience. She supposed she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. At this point, she would take anything she could get, even though her gut told her that this effort wasn't whole-hearted and probably wouldn't last past her walking out the door.

"That wasn't too bad, Nat. Not exactly appetizing, but not too bad." Nick walked to the sink where he started rinsing out the container.

"What? No derogatory remark? And you actually finished it? Well, it's not glowing acceptance by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm pleasantly surprised. Now..." She walked over to the refrigerator, opened it and proved her suspicion correct. The two drinks she'd given him a few days before were still sitting in the same place she'd put them. "If I could just get you to drink them when I'm not around, we'd really be making some progress."

Nat carried the two spoiled shakes to the sink. As she opened the lids and began pouring the rancid liquid down the drain, she slid the detective a sideways glance. "Nick, you do want to keep trying, don't you? I can't accomplish anything on my own. It's your life we're trying to change." She paused and Nick remained silent. Putting the empty containers in the sink, she turned to face him. "We are trying, aren't we?" She'd already put some form of this question to him several times over the past year, and each time he had either changed the subject or given her a half-hearted 'of course', or words to that effect. Neither of these responses had made her feel overly confident in his continued desire, but he hadn't told her no, and that was all the encouragement she needed to keep on working and hoping. And here they were again. She held her breath as she waited for his answer.

He didn't look at her as he finished cleaning the containers and put them on a dishtowel to dry. When, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally turned his attention to her, Natalie heard him draw a slow, deep breath. The sound reminded her of a person mentally preparing themselves to tell a friend bad news, and her body instantly stiffened in reaction. She studied Nick's beautifully expressive face and tried to gauge what he was about to say. God, he looked so very tired and...defeated? She prayed silently_. Please don't let that be defeat I see in his eyes._

Nick's expression remained pensive as his eyes raked Natalie's concerned face. He slowly took stock of her features, and she wondered how deeply he could see into her heart. She wasn't attempting to hide anything from him. It was all in her face for him to see. The love. The hope. The promise. And the fear. His gaze moved from the soft curls at her forehead, to her eyes and then lingered a moment on her mouth as it trembled ever so slightly with the intense emotion rushing through her, before his examination returned to her eyes. The inspection almost felt like a physical caress, and Natalie thought she saw some of the earlier desire return to his face.

He closed his eyes and seemed to struggle against the dangerous emotion. When he opened them again, she noted that he had successfully overpowered the feeling. The want had disappeared. The ghost of an apologetic smile touched his mouth before he finally spoke. "I know I haven't been the most cooperative patient, Nat. And I'll admit the setbacks have strengthened my doubts about the possibility of ever reaching the goal, but I haven't given up. Not yet."

Some of the tension slipped away. She gradually released the breath she'd been holding in and the stiffened muscles in her back relaxed. His reply wasn't as ardent as she would have hoped, but it was basically what she wanted to hear.

Nick reached out to slide a gentle finger down her soft cheek, his hand coming to rest under her chin. "It may not look like it sometimes, Nat, but we are trying."

Natalie tried to ignore the chill of pleasure his touch evoked as she finally allowed herself a half smile. "I know it's been hard lately, Nick. Just how hard, I won't even pretend to comprehend. Doubts are only natural, and I'm not going to stand here and tell you that I haven't had any of my own. But underneath the hesitation and uncertainty, deep inside myself, I believe that we'll reach the goal, that you'll get your mortality back. And you have to believe in it just as strongly if you ever hope to achieve that end." She took the hand from her face and wrapped it in both of her own. "We have to have faith and keep striving. We'll get there. I know we will."

He looked down at their joined hands. "Strong, sweet, Natalie. Your strength of conviction never ceases to astonish me." He paused as his gaze once again met hers. "I envy you that certitude. You're pretty incredible, Doctor Lambert."

At that moment Natalie did the most horribly embarrassing, inappropriate thing she possibly could have done. She'd felt it coming. She tried to hold it back, but it wouldn't be stifled. And before she knew it, it was too late. As she listened to Nick's wonderfully kind words, she yawned. She yawned!

_Unbelievable, Lambert. _

Instantly bringing a hand up to cover her mouth, heat rose in her cheeks. The long shifts had finally caught up with her, and the exhaustion had suddenly swept over her in one forceful wave.

For a second, the detective appeared to be as aghast as Nat by the blatant display of fatigue. But he soon recovered and let out a heart-felt laugh as he teased, "I hope I'm not boring you too much, Doctor Lambert. I wouldn't want to keep you up or anything."

The heat in Natalie's cheeks intensified. "Nick, I'm really very sorry. I-" Another yawn interrupted her apology. "Oh, boy. I guess I'm a lot more tired than I thought."

Nick removed his hand from her grasp and walked to the chair where she had laid her coat. He held the garment open in an invitation for her to put it on, a wicked grin brightening his face. He was obviously enjoying this very much. "I think it's time you headed home, milady. Sun's been up for a little while, and we both need some sleep before our shifts tonight."

Joining him at the chair, she thought better of arguing about the decision he'd made for her. He was right. They both needed their rest. She silently nodded her head, and with Nick's help, pulled on the coat. She slid her arms in the sleeves, and Nick dropped the garment into place on her shoulders. Before she had the chance to do it herself, he gently pulled her hair from its prison beneath the cloak. She stood very still and waited for him to finish, all the while relishing the intimacy and craving something more. A flush spread through her body as, instead of releasing her hair, Nick let his hands remain lost in the soft curls. Nat closed her eyes and waited. For what she wasn't sure. She only knew that she didn't want to disturb the delicate moment.

After a few ticks of the clock, Nick moved. His hands left her hair to settle on her upper arms before turning her around. His face was a serious mask while the fire of an intense passion burned in his eyes. The raw need startled her, but she was drawn to it by the matching emotion she held for him. The impulse to touch him was suddenly overwhelming.

Slowly raising a hand, she reached out to him. But before she made contact, Nick intercepted her wrist. The look on her face silently questioned his action, but there was really no need for an answer. She knew why he had stopped her. She looked on as sadness replaced passion and thought she saw his head move a whisper from side to side in a motion of denial, quietly telling her that he couldn't handle the temptation any longer. Telling her that they were in dangerous waters, and she needed to swim to shore before the waves swept her under and it was too late for rescue.

Releasing her wrist, he buried his hands in the pockets of his pants, as if locking them away from any further enticement by her closeness. "I'm sorry, Nat." His voice echoed with regret.

Natalie closed her eyes and willed her heart back to its normal pace as she took a deep, steadying breath. He'd allowed himself a few seconds of intimacy, she had reacted to it and now apologized for causing a disruption in their normally restrained, carefully orchestrated show of emotion. His caution was well-advised. But at that moment it made her feel as hopeless as she had the day Nick rediscovered he was a vampire. The same pain that had gripped her as she'd had to tell him they couldn't have the kind of relationship they wanted almost suffocated her now. The tragedy of it hit her like a powerful body blow, and she fought back the tears. He was so close, and yet so very far away.

She worked to pull herself together and swallowed the lump in her throat. She opened her eyes. Nick's expression had turned to frowning concern as he looked at her. "You won't fall asleep on the way home, will you? Maybe I should call a cab."

He started toward the phone, but Natalie placed a restraining hand on his arm. She struggled to keep her voice light. "No, Nick. I'm tired, but I'm not that tired. I'm not making a cross-country trip, after all. I'll be fine." He nodded his agreement, and she released him before gathering her things from the table.

Nick followed her to the elevator door where she turned to face him. His smile fell just shy of his eyes. Determined not to leave on the melancholy note that hung in the air, Natalie forced a bright smile. "See you tonight. Ah, go easy on the Captain's ulcer, will ya? And Nick...I'm sure Elliot won't be disappointed with the flute. It's a beautiful, thoughtful gift." A quick kiss on the vampire's cheek and she disappeared through the elevator door.

End Chapter 6


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Nick took a step forward and placed a longing hand on the cold metal of the elevator door. He listened to the grinding of the machinery as it carried Natalie safely away from him. He also heard the beating of her heart. It had almost settled back into its normal rhythm. He closed his eyes as he leaned his forehead on the door beside his hand. "Nat. Dear God, how I love you. I'm so sorry."

The inner voice of disdain taunted. _If you really loved her, you would let her go. Stop her torture and leave her alone. She deserves much more than you can possibly give her. How very selfish you are, Nicholas de Brabant. She deserves a normal life. A life shared with one of her own kind. Do you honestly believe that you'll be able to make it back across and become that person?_

Turning slowly, Nick walked back into the living room. Yes, he believed. Of course he believed. He thrust the scathing self-incriminations from his mind. The truth resonating in the harsh words was becoming harder and harder to ignore. And although the battle was becoming more and more difficult, he was determined to fight the penetrating doubt that increasingly poisoned his thoughts.

But, damn, he was weary of the combat.

_Wouldn't it be easier for everyone involved if you ended this farce of a mortal existence? What have you truly accomplished? You're no closer to mortality now than you were 100 years ago. Be what you are and have done with the struggle._

The voice was very persistent this morning, but he continued to wrestle against the crippling uncertainty. _No._

No, he had to keep trying. For his soul. For Nat.

Nick stopped by the end table where he'd laid the flute. A wave of nausea overcame him, the protein drink stirring uncomfortably in his stomach. He staggered around the table and dropped to the couch, trying to ride out the onslaught. Resting his head on the back of the couch, he closed his eyes. Considering how much he had drunk and how quickly he'd finished it, he was surprised the concoction had stayed down this long. He couldn't remember ever being that gung ho before, and now he was paying for his recklessness. Even though he wanted to go to the refrigerator and drown the sickness, he refrained. It was a very minor victory, but any victory was to be savored at this point.

Any victory. And that's what he chose to call the fact that Natalie left the loft this morning without incident. Unlike his earlier betrayal, he had been able to keep himself in check even as he had ventured too close to Nat. His control had been shaky, but it hadn't deserted him this time. He'd resisted the temptation he had unthinkingly pushed into his path.

He had helped Nat do something he'd seen her do a hundred times. And as he'd allowed the satin curls to fall freely down her back, he'd been unable to resist the few extra seconds of sensation as the waves danced around his fingers. At that moment, the desire to feel her close to him had resurfaced, but he'd been successful in beating it back before the beast had joined the need. Natalie's tender expression had told him that she understood, and he cherished her all the more for that understanding.

It was a shame he couldn't have made the success more significant by finding the courage to answer her inquiry about what was bothering him, by overcoming his fear of her reaction and confiding to her just how great his struggle had become. Warn her of his teetering control. Ask her forgiveness for his betrayal and weakness.

His unwillingness to convey his feelings had hurt her. It had shown so clearly in her eyes. But his dread of her reaction had stopped him. Her disappointment would be profound, and she would probably grow to fear him. He wouldn't be able to stand seeing fear of him in her eyes. His faith in Natalie's dedication was strong. It was probably the only thing in which he had faith. But could she forgive him this horrendous stumble? He had been too frightened to risk finding out. What he'd done was unforgivable, and he doubted even Nat's ability to abide this lapse. But she had the right to know. Wasn't his silence endangering her more?

Nick laid down on the couch as another surge of nausea rumbled in his gut. He rolled on his side and wrapped his arms around his midsection. Again, he fought against the urge to find relief in blood. Natalie's encouraging words echoed in his head. 'We have to have faith and keep striving.'

Faith. Faith in what? Himself? That his goal was reachable? In the beginning, he had believed, but now he wasn't so sure. Regaining a soul was an impossible proposition, wasn't it? The doubt, like an insidious cancer, kept spreading. And without the core belief, what chance did he really have? Trust in Natalie and her belief was all the faith he seemed to be able to muster, and he knew, in the end, it wouldn't be enough. He had to somehow stem the tide of uncertainty threatening to wash the chance for everything he dreamed of away.

Striving. What did it mean? For Nat it meant garlic pills, protein drinks, vitamin pills, tanning beds and hamburger. It also meant emotions, friendships and dealing with everyday life. But above anything else, it meant staying away from the blood. But would starving himself accomplish anything more than making the beast harder to control? The last time he'd stopped drinking blood had resulted in near tragedy, as the vampire raged against the denial and sought relief. He couldn't afford to let that happen again. The blood, even cow's blood, brought with it guilt, but it also brought strength. Strength to function among mortals and serve them as a police officer. Strength to try to make up for all the human blood he had spilled over the centuries. He couldn't risk pushing his composure further toward the breaking point by denying himself the very substance that made the composure possible. But if Nat believed the blood kept him from coming back across, how could he not keep trying what she believed to be the right thing?

Nick brought his knees up toward his chest and hugged his stomach a little harder. The turmoil continued to batter his thoughts until the nausea slackened and exhaustion blanketed his mind with stillness.

"Nat! No!" As the words broke from his lips, Nick bolted up into a sitting position on the couch. The dream had been so true to life that it took him a second to get his bearings and realize he was at the loft, not at Natalie's apartment. Taking a deep breath, he wiped the blood sweat from his forehead. He blinked, clearing the sleepy haze from his eyes, and looked around the room to confirm that he was really at the loft. Relief rushed over him as he swung his legs around and put his feet on the floor. With his elbows on his knees, he rested his head in his hands.

As a foreboding shudder of anguish ran through his body, Nick closed his eyes against the horror of the dream. It had been so real. Not new-he'd been jolted out of sleep before by disturbing, forbidden images of Nat and himself, but frighteningly real.

He struggled to stop the troublesome images, but they flashed through his mind's eye once again. Her hand caressing his. The love shining in her eyes. His hand on her cheek. Her lips on his palm. The warmth running through his body. The silky feel of her hair. Her gentle kiss on his chin. The need on her face. His mouth on hers. His whispering of her name between kisses. Her encouraging fingers feathering through his hair. His lips exploring the enticing softness of her neck. The beating of her heart. The beast fighting for freedom. Her heated call of his name. The taste of her skin on his tongue. The urgency of her hands as they moved along his spine. The change coming over him. The growl from his throat. Her body tensing in his arms.

Nick's body stiffened and an agonized groan passed his lips as the picture of Natalie's horror-filled face appeared before him once more. He shook his head in an effort to somehow physically banish the torturous picture, but to no avail. His hands moved to cover his ears in a futile attempt to block her frightened, anguished plea as it echoed in his head. "No, Nick! Please! How can you betray me like this?"

Even as he tried to halt it, the replay of the dream continued. His inability to stop himself. The feel of his fangs as they penetrated her tender flesh. The heavenly warmth of sensation that assaulted him as her life flowed into his mouth. God help him...it had all been so unbearably real.

Suddenly, his immortal body's need took precedence over anything, and he went to the refrigerator to find relief, the accomplishment of earlier that morning forgotten as the necessity for control took charge. Blood was the only thing that would restore it to him, and he downed half a bottle without a second thought. Its soothing effect took only a moment to spread through him, a steadying calm seeping into his troubled mind.

He looked down at the bottle. _I'm sorry, Nat._

Damn, he'd been saying that a lot lately. He finished the blood and threw the bottle in the trash. Noticing the dried, red sweat on his hand, he headed upstairs to get a shower and prepare for work.

Ready for his shift, but with a little time before he had to leave, Nick descended the stairs and walked into the living room. Picking up the flute, he tried to think if he had any kind of a box he could put it in. A box? Hell, he didn't have the paper to wrap it in, much less a box. Elliot's birthday was tomorrow, so he would have to pick up a box, paper and a card tonight.

He had an hour before he had to check in at the station. He should be able to make a quick stop and grab what he needed on the way without being late. He went to the table behind the couch and got the car keys out of their hiding place. As he turned toward the door, Nick felt the familiar vibration of 800 years. He turned around to find his master standing behind him.

The jumble of emotion LaCroix had sensed this morning still radiated from his son, but the intensity had decreased considerably. The strain of the conflict, however, showed on the younger vampire's face. The struggle was making its mark, and LaCroix cursed Nicholas' stubbornness. It was all so unnecessary, so futile.

As the ancient immortal's eyes traveled over his creation, the wasted potential slapped him in the face. He hated waste, and this was waste in its most vile form. It angered him beyond measure to think how his son's power floundered under the restrictions placed upon it by the foolhardy quest. But as he stared at his beautiful offspring and remembered the growing indecision, LaCroix couldn't help but feel optimistic. Maybe, just maybe, the misguided search was coming to an end. A half smile tugged at his mouth. "Good evening, Nicholas. Have I come at a bad time?"

Nick took a step toward his visitor. "Well...yes, actually. I was just headed out the door. Is there something you wanted, LaCroix?"

Lucien noted no hostility in the inquiry. There was no displeasure in the eyes that questioned him, no hardening of the handsome features. His son didn't appear to be upset by his visit, only inconvenienced by the timing. The truce Nicholas had silently declared some months ago pleased his LaCriox no end.

The smile on his face widened. "I brought you a little something." He held out a bottle of the Raven's special stock. "It's been a few weeks since the last time I supplied you with something drinkable, so I thought I'd drop off another bottle."

LaCroix recalled the thrill at sensing, and later seeing, Nicholas' renewed furor for his vampire nature only weeks earlier. The cause had been nothing more than a silly mortal game, but it had had the most delightful influence on his son. At the time, Nicholas had accepted the human blood and relished every drop.

Lucien watched hesitation come into his creation's eyes. Nicholas' gaze fell to the bottle and then settled back on LaCroix's face. "No. No, I don't need it. I don't want it."

He didn't sound very convincing, and the general couldn't help the little jab. "My dear, Nicholas. You do need it, and I'm afraid you really don't know what you want."

Lucien felt his son's irritated reaction to the statement. He didn't want this meeting to go badly. It had been a mistake to push too hard. If he wasn't careful, he would undo all the good that had been done. As Nicholas opened his mouth to respond, LaCroix cut him off. "I apologize, Nicholas. I spoke out of turn." He walked over to the kitchen table and set the bottle down. "I'll just leave it here, and you can do with it as you please."

As he looked back at his child, he focused on the instrument in his hand. "Taking up the fife, Nicholas? I would have thought you had plenty to keep you busy already." He stopped and looked more closely at the flute. "Wait a moment. It looks familiar. It was around 1700, in London, was it not? The old man and his grandson. Ah...Philip and...Michael. Yes, that's right."

Nicholas followed his maker's gaze as he nodded. "It was a gift from Philip."

"For saving the boy's life." LaCroix finished the thought. "Yes, I remember. One of your good deeds." Distaste crept into his voice with the last words. He made an effort to remove it as he continued. "It's been almost 300 years, Nicholas. Reminiscing about the good old days?"

"No." He looked back at his creator. "I'm giving it to a friend for his birthday."

LaCroix saw, and felt, Nicholas' pleasure as he told him what he had planned for the flute. Giving the gift made him happy. The positive feeling radiating from Nicholas was a pleasant change, but it was for an inappropriate reason as far as LaCroix was concerned.

He knew the recipient of the gift was the little mortal Nicholas had befriended several months back, and the bond between the two made Lucien uneasy. More than uneasy, he was displeased with the relationship, or perhaps jealous was a better word, although he didn't like to admit to such an irritating human emotion. He worked to keep the disdain out of his voice. "Ah...the little Simmons child." The look of surprise on his son's face brought a short laugh from LaCroix. "Oh come now, Nicholas. There aren't many things you can keep from me. You are well aware of that. I've known about the boy and his family almost from the beginning."

Distress and concern pushed the satisfaction from Nick's expression. His features became stern with conviction as he took another step toward his immortal father. "Leave them alone, LaCroix. I'm warning you. I won't stand for your interference."

Lucien didn't take kindly to intimidation, and a menacing frown crossed his face as he heard the threat. But what bothered him more than the threat was the steadfast loyalty his son continued to feel toward mortals. He never could understand it, and he didn't think he ever would. They were inferior creatures that provided nourishment, nothing more. But Nicholas had never really seen them as such, and, so far, this was one aspect of his protege's view that had been unaffected by recent events. More's the pity. The perfect light through which Nicholas saw the mortal world had been blinding him for so long that LaCroix doubted if it could ever be completely snuffed out, even if his offspring gave up his search and chose to accept his true nature. It was discouraging.

LaCroix's frown dissolved as he tried to look past the anger the warning had evoked and set the record straight. "I have no intention of interfering in any way, Nicholas. If I had wanted to, I would have acted long before now. Neither Elliot nor his father and mother will suffer by my hand. You need have no fear of that." He meant every word he said. Oh, he'd thought about it to be sure, but had quickly dismissed the action as unnecessary and counter productive.

Nicholas appeared skeptical at first, but after a few seconds, seemed to accept that his master's word was good. "Thank you." The relief was evident in his voice and face.

LaCroix toyed with the idea of pointing out to Nicholas the futility of his relationship with the Simmons family, but decided against saying anything. He had been privy to his son's thoughts and feelings on the matter already. Nicholas felt himself unworthy of the friendship, but was grateful for it nonetheless and continued to participate in it even as he chastised himself.

_So stubborn._ Hearing Lucien's opinion on the subject would only serve to jeopardize their growing closeness. The Roman would do anything to keep that from happening.

_Unworthy, indeed._ LaCroix scoffed at the very idea. _Truly absurd._

It was not Nicholas who was unworthy, but the mortals who were undeserving of the attention he insisted on showering upon them. They were not worth his son's attention or concern unless they were being sized up as a mealtime diversion. When would Nicholas learn? LaCroix had been asking himself that question for many years now, and, unfortunately, 'never' always seemed to be the answer.

The elder bit his tongue and smiled at his son's gratitude. It was nice to hear. "You're welcome, Nicholas. Now I think I'd better be on my way and let you be on yours." He looked sideways at the bottle of human blood sitting on the kitchen table and then back to his creation. "Take care of yourself, Nicholas." In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Nick stared at the empty space where his master had stood. The knowledge that LaCroix knew of his relationship with Jacob and his family shouldn't have been a surprise, especially now. The blood he had received from his maker while in the hospital had strengthened greatly the connection between creator and creation. LaCroix was right. There wasn't much Nick could keep from him.

A relieved sigh left Nick as he turned back toward the door. The Roman would keep his word. He had nothing to worry about. He'd not only heard it from his father's lips, but he'd felt it through their bond. Elliot and his parents would be left alone.

As he walked by the kitchen area, Nick's eyes were drawn to the bottle sitting on the table. Stopping, he looked at it intently for several minutes, LaCroix's parting words running through his mind. 'Take care of yourself, Nicholas.'

Then, as if the blood silently called to him, he slowly walked to the table. Picking up the bottle, he held the cork under his nose. His eyes closed as the delicious scent of the bottle's contents sang along every nerve in his body. Again he heard LaCroix's words. 'Take care of yourself, Nicholas.'

Caught up in the exquisite experience the human blood created, Nick answered the statement with an unconscious, whispered "Yes." It was not until he felt the sharpness of his fangs on his bottom lip that he pulled himself back from the abyss. Another whisper came from him as he opened his eyes and pushed the vampire back into hiding. "No...no."

With a resigned determination, he took the bottle to the sink and pulled out the cork. But just as he started to pour the nectar down the drain, the evening's dream intruded. He couldn't control himself. _Nat. No._ He had to control himself. He replaced the cork before any of the precious liquid had been lost.

'Take care of yourself, Nicholas.' He heard the words again.

_Take care of Natalie, Nicholas._ He adjusted LaCroix's advice as he put the bottle in the refrigerator.

He left to get his shopping done before his watch.

End Chapter 7


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Reese walked out of his office just as Nick entered the squad room. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Two minutes to spare. He watched as Nick also peeked at the clock, and a smile tugged at the corner of the captain's mouth. He'd gotten his point across. _Good._ But just how long the impression would last, he wasn't sure. Knight could be a little too headstrong and independent for his taste sometimes.

He looked down at the message in his hand and frowned. Things wouldn't be quiet tonight. The body of a young girl had been found. They had a child killer on their hands. Scum didn't get any lower than that, and his determination to get a person off the street didn't get any more intense. He wanted this guy yesterday.

Reese moved to join Knight and Vetter at their desk. Nick stood over his seated partner. They were both smiling. It was good to see. They were getting closer, and their partnership was starting to gel. Granted, it was happening slowly, but they were getting there.

As he stopped at the desk, Reese caught the end of what Tracy was saying. "Well, I'm glad you found something, Nick. I knew you would." The captain's presence garnered her attention right away. "Hi, Cap." She read his mood instantly and her smile dropped. "Got a new one?"

Reese nodded. "Yeah. It's bad."

"How bad?" Nick asked.

"Teenage girl. She was found nude," Joe responded.

"Possible rape," observed Tracy.

"Yeah." Reese continued. "The uniforms at the scene said it looks like she was beaten pretty badly, but no real evidence of fatal injury except the bruising around her neck."

"Strangulation," Nick stated simply.

Joe agreed. "Probably. Natalie's on her way. The uniforms are waiting for you." He paused, looked meaningfully into Nick's eyes. "I want this guy. I want this guy _soon_."

Nick held out his hand for the piece of paper containing the location information. "Understood, Cap."

Joe Reese handed over the message and watched his best team head out the door. He hadn't been at the precinct more than thirty minutes and already his stomach was nudging him. God, he hated cases like this. He reached in his pocket, pulled out an almost empty roll of Tums and hoped he had some more stashed in his office.

"I wonder...?" Detective Vetter thought out loud.

Nick looked over at her and then back to the road as they made their way to the murder scene. "Wonder what?"

Tracy turned her eyes from the passenger's window of the Caddy to Nick. "Well, I've got a friend in missing persons, and the other day over breakfast she mentioned that there's been a sudden increase in missing children reports over the last couple of weeks. She said they have absolutely nothing to go on in these particular cases either. It's pretty weird. Apparently kids have been disappearing right from their beds and..."

"Their beds?" Nick interrupted her. "And nobody has heard or seen anything?"

"Yeah," Tracy nodded. "Hard to believe, isn't it? Nobody inside or outside the homes remembers hearing or seeing anything unusual. The kids didn't make a sound or were very effectively kept from making a sound. Anyway, my friend said there've been four reports like that from different parts of the city. All middle to upper class neighborhoods. No one has called asking for any kind of ransom. The kids just vanish. The department's set up a special task force and is debating whether to risk the possibility of starting a panic by issuing a public warning. None of the kids have been found dead. Yet. This could be the first one." She stopped and pondered a second. "Although...now that I think about it...I believe Braxton said the victims were running around the ages of five to eight, so this probably isn't connected after all. I guess I've just got the missing kids on my mind. Ever since Braxton told me about the case, I haven't been able to get it out of my head. It's very disconcerting. Home is the one place children are supposed to be safe from the predators of this world."

Nick sat silently for a moment as he absorbed what Tracy had just told him. The whole thing sounded suspiciously like it could be the work of a vampire. Although with no bodies it would be difficult to confirm, and if the vampire was careful, which most were, there would be no bodies. On the other hand, the scenario was not totally out of the realm of possibility for a mortal to have perpetrated-a very cunning, very practiced mortal.

His thoughts were interrupted as Tracy continued. "I guess for a cop in these modern times I'm being a little naive, but I just can't help it. 'Safe at home' should mean something."

Knight glanced affectionately at his young partner. The intrusions had really upset her. "You're not naive, Trace. You're right. 'Safe at home' should mean something, and it's our job to see that it does. They don't have any leads at all?"

The young detective shook her head as she looked out the front window. "No. Nothing. I've talked to someone who I thought might have been able to help, but he couldn't tell me anything."

A knowing half-smile curved Nick's mouth. So the thought of a vampire had crossed her mind also. Apparently, she'd gone to Vachon who had evidently told her that a member of the community was not involved, or that he didn't know anything one way or the other. Nick would have to go see the Spaniard and find out just what he had to say on the matter.

"I know it's hard, but try not to let it get to you too much, Trace. You have your job to do, and missing persons has theirs. All we can do is our best and hope that it's enough. Sometimes it is, and, unfortunately, sometimes it isn't."

He tried to sound encouraging, but fell a little short. Looking on the bright side of things was not one of his fortes, after all. But did a situation like this even have a bright side? Somehow he didn't think so

Tracy's attention shifted back to Nick, a sad smile on her face. "I know. It's just frustrating to realize that most of the time our best isn't enough. There's so many of them, and so few of us. Sometimes I feel so helpless."

"Well," Nick took a deep breath, "we've got another chance tonight not to feel helpless. Like Reese said, 'I want this guy.' Let's see to it that we get him. Okay?"

Tracy nodded. The detectives finished the trip immersed in their own thoughts.

It was several hours later before the detective team was able to make its way to the morgue to talk to Natalie about her additional findings, if any. They had gotten to the scene earlier that night to find the coroner already at work. At first look, she had confirmed their suspicion about strangulation. A phosphate test would confirm the rape, but from the amount of damage evident in the vaginal region, the test was only a formality. Natalie guessed the girl had been dead about 24 hours.

Nick and Tracy entered the autopsy room to see Nat bent over the girl's right hand, taking scrapings from her nails. Tracy had avoided the body while at the scene, doing the job of questioning possible witnesses while Nick examined the remains and talked to Natalie. The shock of seeing the badly beaten body stopped the rookie detective in her tracks. Whoever had done this didn't stop at the rape. He'd made the girl suffer in other ways before ending her life. Vetter covered her mouth with a hand as a muffled "Dear God" escaped her.

As Nick looked into Tracy's face, he confronted the same horror he'd seen in Nat's a few hours ago at the scene. Seeing the murdered girl, who they now knew was all of twelve, had conjured up Natalie's painful memories of her godchild, Cynthia. He had recognized it the minute he'd looked into Nat's eyes. She had tried to hide her feelings under her professionalism, but he'd seen her struggle to hold back the tears as she'd stared down at the lifeless young body.

When he had walked up beside her to ask if she was all right, she'd looked up at him with heart-wrenching sadness and whispered, 'She was just a baby, Nick. Just a baby.' His arms had moved around her automatically, and he'd held her close as the need to comfort her pushed every other instinct into the background. She hadn't given in to the tears, but stood quietly within the circle of his arms, seeming to draw strength from his nearness. He'd held her for as long as she would permit. When a uniformed officer approached them, she'd pulled away and continued her examination.

Nick put a comforting arm around Tracy's shoulders as Nat carefully placed the evidence from the girl's fingernails into a container. Casting sympathetic eyes on the younger woman, the coroner acknowledged her visitors. "I hope you guys have come to tell me you've got this bastard behind bars already." Her earlier sorrow and turned into anger, and it reverberated in her attitude.

"Not yet, Nat, but we had luck questioning the neighbors around the playground where the body was found." Nick gave Tracy a reassuring squeeze and walked over to the table. Looking down on the extinguished promise of a young life, he too felt Natalie's rage. He raised his gaze to the doctor and forced a slight smile. "No one actually saw or heard the murder, but we've got someone who claims he saw a stranger lurking around the area where the body was found about nine last night. Says he was walking his dog and got a good look at what he thought was a suspicious character walking past him under a street light. I know it'll be a miracle if this stranger is our man, but not everyone is a criminal genius. Maybe we'll catch a break with this one." He paused to flash Tracy, who had eased up beside him at the table, a meaningful look.

His partner was starting to come to terms with the sight of the body and was ready to be part of the conversation. She'd caught the look and understood what it meant. Nodding slowly, she agreed. "Yeah, not so helpless this time."

For the moment, Nick ignored the curious look Natalie gave him and continued. "Our witness couldn't identify any mug shots. He's with the artist now, giving us a composite. Were you able to confirm the time of death?"

"Twenty-four to thirty-six hours. The body was outside for a while, and the cold conditions have interfered with the findings, but only slightly. Oh, and she was raped. Have you had a chance to check with missing persons in order to try to identify her?" Dr. Lambert pulled the sheet over her patient's head.

"Mary Huntsfield." Tracy still looked a little green around the gills as she gave the Jane Doe a name. "She disappeared on her way home from school three days ago. We just found out a few minutes ago." She pulled a facsimile out of her coat and handed it to Nat. "Here's the ID picture. She was only twelve. Her birthday's next month. God, who would do this?"

Natalie's frown deepened as she pulled back the sheet and glanced from the faxed photograph to the young, still face on the table. "The picture's a bit rough and her face is distorted by the beating, but it's her." She studied the piece of paper a moment before handing it back to Tracy. "She looks like such a sweet child. What a senseless waste. A life that barely had a chance to start..." Nat's voice faltered as she struggled against painful emotions. "It's disgusting. It's infuriating."

Tracy bowed her head in agreement. "We're waiting to get the finished composite so we can show it to her parents when we notify them. See if they recognize him." The young detective fell silent a moment and then sadly shook her head as she continued. "I hate the idea of waking them up in the middle of the night just to tell them their daughter's been brutally raped and murdered."

"Well, I don't know how much sleep they've been getting the last couple of days, but I don't think you have to worry about it, Trace." Nick tried to ease his partner's mind. The idea didn't appeal to him either, but notifications never did. "I think the captain 'll see it your way. By the time the composite's finished, it'll be late enough that he'll probably want to wait the extra few hours and have the day shift tell them."

Some of the tension drained from Vetter's features. "I hope you're right."

Nick motioned toward the examining table. "Is she going to be able to help us catch her killer, Nat?"

For the first time that night a satisfied smile cross her face. "Yup. I got skin, hair and blood from under her nails. There's enough for matching purposes. It looks like she was able to mark her attacker pretty good. When you find this guy, he'll more than likely have visible scars. Probably on his face or arms. Provided, of course, you find him soon enough."

"We will." He wasn't certain why, but Nick had a feeling the 'suspicious character' seen walking in the neighborhood was their man, and he hoped they would be able to get their hands on him quickly, because Nick had a gut feeling about one more thing. This man wasn't through killing.

Natalie replaced the sheet. Pulling off her elastic gloves, she tossed them into the biohazard bag as she joined the pair on the other side of the table. "So you don't have any idea who the perp could be?"

"Not really." Nick shook his head. "Since our witness couldn't identify any known, local person, this guy could be from out of town or even out of country. We'll send the sketch out and see if we have any luck identifying him through those channels."

"But what if this isn't the man walking under the street light? What if he was just a guy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Nick read the concern in Nat's face. She was worried about them wasting time chasing the wrong man, concentrating on one person and possibly letting the real killer slip through their fingers. She didn't want this to happen to another innocent child. She wanted the person who did this out of circulation as soon as possible. They all did.

Obviously, she was more upset about this whole thing than she was letting on. But she was also well aware of procedure. Her emotions were getting in the way. He understood completely and tried to reassure her. "Well, Nat, we have to identify and talk to him no matter what. We'll check locations and alibis of possible repeat offenders. And even though we've got the interviews from the missing persons file, we'll have to do them again. Talk to the people at Mary's school and the people in the neighborhood where she walked on her way to and from class. See if anybody remembers anything new. Show 'em the composite. If we run up against a lot of dead ends, we'll have to look at it from a different angle. Maybe this is the first time this guy has done anything? If it is, he'll be harder to get a handle on, but we'll get him."

Natalie took a deep breath before looking into Nick's eyes. "I'm sorry. I know you know what you're doing. I don't mean to be pushy or question your investigation. But this makes me so mad I can't see straight. I just want to get this creep off the street."

"I know, Nat." His voice echoed with compassion. As he looked back into her sad face, Nick wished he could say or do more to ease her pain, but he knew the only thing that would give any of them any kind of peace would be the capture of this killer.

The ringing of Tracy's cell phone interrupted the short silence. She pulled it out and addressed the caller. "Vetter. Yeah? Okay. Thanks." She pushed the phone back into her pocket. "That was the captain. He said the composite's finished. He wants us back at the station A.S.A.P."

"Anything else you can tell us right now, Nat?" Nick took a step towards her. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her as he had at the scene, but he held himself in check.

She shook her head. "No. I'll send the samples I found under her nails to the lab. We should be able to get a blood type. And if we do get a suspect, we'll have skin and hair samples for comparison. That's about all I can tell you for now."

Tracy flashed Natalie a quick smile as she turned toward the door. "Okay. Thanks. We'll check back later." She then eyed her partner. "You comin'?"

Knight nodded. "Yeah. I'll be with you in a second."

"I'll meet you at the car." Detective Vetter disappeared through the door.

Nick walked up to Natalie and placed his hands on her upper arms as he looked into her solemn, tired face. "Are you going to be all right? I know this has stirred up some painful memories."

Natalie closed her eyes as she nodded. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. But you're right..." She gazed up into his face. "Every time I look at that innocent child I think of Cynthia. I just can't help it. It's all so senseless." Her voice cracked with the tears that once again threatened to overcome her.

"Nat?" As Nick searched her tortured face, the pleading look in her eyes silently bade him to once again afford her the tender comfort he'd provided earlier that night. He pulled her close. She stood stiffly in the circle of his arms for a moment as she battled the sorrow. He then felt her relax. She rested her head and hands on his chest as he hugged her closer.

Neither one spoke while he cradled her in the safety of his embrace, the immortal allowing the mortal to vent her rekindled grief. He felt the sting of her tears as the moisture penetrated his shirt to settle warmly on his cold skin. Closing his eyes, he laid a cheek on the top of her hair as the tears quietly flowed. After a few minutes, she stirred. Raising her head, she looked into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Nick. I-"

"Shhh, Nat." He lifted a silencing finger to her lips before wiping the wetness from her face. He didn't want an apology from her. What little comfort he was able to give her, he gave freely, willingly and happily. He would stand in the warm shower of her tears for as long as she needed him to and would be honored by her reliance. Leaning forward, he placed a light kiss on her forehead. "I guess I'd better get going before Tracy comes looking for me."

A half-hearted smile curved her mouth, gratitude shining in her swollen eyes. "Thank you."

He raised a finger to capture a stray tear as it slid down her cheek. "Anytime, milady. Anytime." He returned her smile and bowed his head. "I'll talk to you later." Another quick kiss on her cheek and he was gone.

End Chapter 8


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Elizabeth Simmons stood back and scanned the chaos whirling around her. Elliot and Zachary Hamilton crawled on the kitchen floor as they pushed Matchbox trucks around the table, all the while providing the proper engine and crashing noises as they plowed the toy vehicles into one another. Underneath the table, Danny Jergens and Timothy Carlson pretended they were Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader as they shot their "lifelike-sound" ray guns at each other. And in the middle of it all, Jacob tried to put candles on the cake sitting in the center of the small, square piece of furniture as their son suddenly rolled a truck over his foot.

_Six candles. Six. It's hard to believe._ A smile crossed her face as her gaze moved from her husband to her son. She loved them both more than she could put into word or thought.

But as she looked at Elliot, she also felt a little twinge of sadness tug at her heart. He was growing up so fast. Oh, she knew the days on the calendar weren't actually passing with any more speed than normal. They just felt like they were moving at an obscenely quick pace. Her son wouldn't be her 'little' boy for too much longer. And as much as she looked forward to watching him grow into a young man, she wished she could somehow delay the process and keep him her precious six-year-old bundle of joy for a few more years. It was selfish, she knew, but she just couldn't help it.

"Hey! No fair! You can't do that!" The objection issued from under the table, and Elizabeth bent down to access the situation. Danny sat up on his knees as he pointed to his blond sparring partner. "You can't use a laser gun and a light saber at the same time."

But Tim nodded as he begged to differ with his brown-haired friend. "Can too. I'm Darth Vader. Can too."

"Cannot," was the reply.

Beth couldn't help but grin as she sighed. She'd only invited three of her son's school friends over for dinner and the birthday celebration in hopes of keeping the turmoil to a minimum, but she should have known better. Sometimes it only took one six-year-old to create a high level of pandemonium, let alone four.

"Ah...guys?" Elizabeth interrupted the squabble. Two sets of young, blue eyes quickly turned to look at her as she peered under the table. "I think you fellas need to come out and put the toys away for a little while. It's time for cake and ice cream."

"Yay!" The unanimous approval was followed by a couple of big smiles as the children crawled out from their make-shift fortress. Beth indicated where she wanted them to put their toys.

"All right!" The news was not lost on the two boys playing demolition derby, and they jumped up from the floor, voicing their happiness at the same time.

Elliot and Zachary started toward the table, but Elizabeth stopped them. "Hey, you two. Get the trucks off the floor, please. Put 'em over here." She pointed to a small shelf at the end of the counter where Danny and Tim were storing their implements of destruction.

Green eyes looked up at Beth as Zachary nodded his red head. "Yes, ma'am." He turned to retrieve the truck with which he'd been playing.

"Okay, Mom." Elliot followed his friend's example.

With the toys safely out of the way, Elliot's friends took their places at the table. Before he joined them, Elliot looked up at his mother. "Mom, when is Nick going to get here? I thought he was going to be here for cake? To see me blow out the candles. He said he would."

Elizabeth quickly glanced over at her three young guests who were noisily fidgeting in their newly taken seats. She sighed at the collection of young energy and knew it wouldn't stay settled for very long without some kind of distraction. But she didn't want to disappoint her son by starting the celebration without Nick.

Looking at her watch, Beth chided herself. _You should have paid more attention to the clock. _

She'd wanted to try and get a handle on the increasing disorder the boys were creating and hadn't checked the time before making her announcement. She now realized, regrettably, that she'd jumped the gun a wee bit. She'd told Nick they would have cake around 6:30. It was twenty past now. He still had a few minutes. Turning her attention back to Elliot's concerned face, she knelt down in front of him. "We are starting a bit early. Do you want to wait a few more minutes? I'm sure Nick will be here soon."

Her son's face brightened as he enthusiastically nodded his head. "Yeah. Can we? Please?"

"Sure we can." Elizabeth pulled her precious child into her arms and gave him a fierce hug. "We'll wait as long as you want." Putting her mouth close to his ear, she whispered. "I love you."

"Me, too" was the quiet response as small arms moved around her neck.

Beth gave her son another squeeze before releasing him. She stood up and looked over at her husband who had stopped his task of doling out paper plates to watch her and Elliot's interaction. The love in his eyes caused a satisfying warmth to spread through her. She smiled her love in return as the tones of the front doorbell pealed through the house.

"Nick!" Elliot was out of the kitchen and running down the short hallway before Elizabeth had a chance to react to the summons.

As the other boys made to get up and follow their friend, Beth halted their movement. "Guys, you stay here. Elliot'll be back in just a minute." She ignored the collective grumbling that resulted from her intervention. She didn't want the rambunctious troop escorting her son. She had them in their seats and wanted to keep them there if at all possible. She looked meaningfully at Jacob. "Mr. Simmons will get you some chocolate milk." Her husband nodded, silently agreeing with her strategy. She smiled as her gaze fell back to the boys. "Okay?" She didn't wait for a reply and followed her son down the hall.

She caught up with Elliot just as he pushed the storm door open. Nick's face beamed with boyish delight when he stepped into the house and greeted her son. "Hi, little man. Happy birthday."

Elliot gazed up at the tall, blond man. The grin on his face was contagious, and the corners of her mouth lifted as her small bundle of energy returned the greeting. "Hi, Nick."

Knight raised bright eyes to Elizabeth. "Hi, Beth. I hope I'm not late."

She shook her head. "No. You're right on time. We were just about to light the candles."

"Great." Nick's attention returned to her son as he squatted down. "Come here, you." Elliot happily stepped forward, and the detective drew him into a loving embrace. Elizabeth looked on with a singular contentment as her child wrapped his arms around Nick's neck.

She recalled the day Nick entered their lives with both fondness and trepidation. A disturbing chill ran down her spine. The paralyzing fear that had gripped her when she'd been unable to find Elliot was something she never wanted to experience again, while the policeman's help was something she was not likely to forget. She and her husband owed Nick a great deal.

Nick returned her son's fervent embrace, and Beth smiled. Not for the first time since knowing him, she wondered at the fact that Nick wasn't married with children of his own by now. He presented a very nice combination of attributes and would make someone very happy someday.

_Someone?_ She laughed to herself. Not someone. Doctor Natalie Lambert. As far a Beth was concerned, there was little doubt. She'd only seen Nick in Doctor Lambert's company once or twice, but from the way they looked at each other it had been more than obvious they were both in love. Nick said they'd known each other for six years. How long were they going to wait?

Several times over the months Elizabeth had caught Nick looking at Jacob and Elliot with such an intense longing on his face that she'd felt the ache in her own heart. It was very clear, to her at least, that he wanted a family. And her instincts told her that he wanted one with Natalie. But she could only guess at the detective's feelings in this area because it was a subject they'd never broached. Nick always shied away from any discussion of the possibilities of marriage. At least, he never confided anything when she was around. She didn't know if he and Jacob had ever talked about the topic. Who knew what men discussed when they were alone? A smirk lifted her mouth. Did she really want to know? Yes, actually, she did.

Nick released Elliot and straightened, glancing down at the brightly wrapped package in his hand. Some of the pleasure left his face as a hesitant concern shadowed his eyes. As he eyed the gift, he appeared uncertain. Worried? As if he were having second thoughts about giving the present to Elliot.

His momentary doubt surprised her a little. Apprehension was only natural. Wondering if a person will like what you are giving them is part of the giving, hoping you picked the right thing. She was feeling it now as she thought about the choice she'd made for Elliot. But, for some reason, she got the impression Nick's concern went deeper than the usual, light uneasiness, and it made her suddenly very curious about what the slender box contained.

"This belongs to you, birthday boy." Nick's statement interrupted Beth's meditation. She refocused her attention on the pair in front of her as the detective held the gift out to her son, the uncertainty still lurking in his eyes.

"Cool! Thanks!" Small hands greedily took the long package. Elliot held it close to his ear as he gave it a vigorous shake, but the box remained silent. "What is it?"

Nick chuckled and his features relaxed with the amusement, the anxiety seemingly forgotten. "I'm not telling. You'll have to wait until you open it."

Large, brown eyes turned to Elizabeth, but before her son could ask the question she shook her head. "Not now, sweetheart. Go put it with the rest of the gifts, and you can open them all together after we've had cake. It won't be long. All right?"

For once, he didn't seem to mind obeying his mother's wishes. "Okay." He started toward the kitchen, but stopped to look back at Nick as he motioned for his friend to follow him. "Come on, Nick. I don't want you to miss me blowing out the candles."

The detective shrugged out of his coat as he shook his head. "I wouldn't miss that for the world. I'll be with you in a minute. Just let me hang up my coat."

"Okay." Elliot nodded before turning to skip down the hall.

Nick hung his coat on the rack in the corner and turned back to Beth. Leaning forward, he gently kissed her cheek. "Unfortunately, I can't stay long. I'm on tonight. Have you got a big crowd in there?" He indicated the eating area with a nod of his head.

"That's all right, Nick. This little get-together should be breaking up soon anyway. Cake, then gifts and then the boys go home. I asked parents to be here around 7:45." An excited uproar from the kitchen halted Elizabeth's words. She laughed as she continued. "As far as the 'crowd' goes, it may not sound like it, but there are only four, count 'em four, six-year-olds in that room."

"Oh, I believe it. The little man and his buddies can certainly make their presence loom very large. I seem to remember a sleepover a month or so ago that..." Nick left the sentence hanging as a wicked smirk curved his lips.

Beth nodded her recognition. "Oh, yeah. You witnessed the first hour or so of the bedlam before escaping with my husband to a concert, as I recall. Cowards." Her eyes sparkled as she teased. "By the time you returned to the scene of the upheaval, everyone was conked out. You two timed it perfectly."

"Now, Beth." Knight put a friendly arm around her shoulders. "You don't believe we ran out on you on purpose, do you?"

She couldn't help but grin at the mischievous expression on his handsome face. But her smile was quickly replaced by an astonished look of wide-eyed innocence as she pointed to herself. "Who? Me? Think that of you two? Absurd."

Nick's impish expression didn't change. "We'd been planning to go to that concert for weeks. We did ask if you wanted us to stay. Remember?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows as she continued to playfully feign her amazement. "Was that what that was?" She laid a finger to her cheek while pretending to be deep in thought. "Let's see. How did Jacob phrase the question? Oh, yes." Putting her hands on her hips, she lowered the tone of her voice in an unsuccessful attempt to mimic her husband. "'You can handle this, honey. You wouldn't want us to miss the concert, would you?'" She chuckled along with Nick at the miserable impression, as well as the thinly-veiled excuse. "I could tell he was just bitin' at the bit to stay." She slowly shook her head. "Impossible. Sometimes you two are impossible."

"Yeah, but ya love us." The laughter still brightened Nick's features as he placed another kiss on her cheek.

Beth smiled warmly at her friend as she agreed. "Yeah." She gave him a playful jab in the ribs as they started to walk down the hall to join the party.

The next thirty minutes passed very quickly for Elizabeth as she got caught up in the excited tension of the moment. First came the introductions. She looked on with an endearing smile as Elliot proudly presented Nick to his classmates. Zachary and Tim, who had been at the sleepover, remembered the detective, while Danny seemed impressed to finally meet the policeman. With the greetings out of the way, the serious business of the celebration got underway. Beth happily directed the flurry of activity as candles were lit, a song was sung and a wish was made. She was relieved to be able to capture some the happening on film. After the candles were extinguished, she, Jacob and Nick set about distributing cake and ice cream to their impatient patrons who eagerly gobbled the confections at an alarming rate. Then, once sticky hands and faces were cleaned, it was time for opening gifts.

The job of passing the birthday packages to Elliot fell to Jacob. As their son opened one, his father would give him another one.

Elliot opened his classmates' gifts first. More miniature cars. While her son's young guests congratulated him on his good fortune, Beth sighed facetiously to herself, _Great. Just what he needs._

Next, Elliot received clothing coincidentally supplied by both sets of grandparents. All of the youngsters at the table seemed less than taken with the presents, a fact that didn't surprise Elizabeth, but as she noted her son's indifferent reaction to the sweaters and pants, she acknowledged that, impressed or not, he did need them.

Jacob then handed his son the gift from Mom and Dad. Elliot's teacher had been very enthusiastic about his musical future at their last parent-teacher meeting. But getting him an expensive instrument was out of the question. Not only could they not afford it, but it would be foolish to spend the money at this early stage. She didn't know if this fascination would last. So when she'd spotted the small keyboard in a discount store a few weeks ago, she'd been very excited and pleased with her decision to buy it for Elliot.

Biting her lower lip, Beth nervously waited for her son's reaction to her choice of gift. He finished removing the paper from the box and took a good look at what he had in his hands. His eyes scanned the picture on the cardboard before moving to his mother's face. "Wow. Neat. Thanks, Mom." He looked at his father. "Thanks, Dad." He then set about pulling the instrument out of its container.

"You're welcome." Elliot's mother and father made the response in unison.

Elizabeth breathed a happy sigh of relief. He liked the gift. The word 'neat' told her that much. She knew that 'neat' or 'cool' were her son's chosen words of approval. If either one was used, there could be no doubt that he was truly pleased.

She glanced over at Nick who leaned silently against the counter watching the proceedings. He had a lazy smile on his face, but she thought she saw the earlier concern return to his eyes as he looked at her son's newest acquisition. There was another emotion lurking there also. Disappointment? Regret?

"Boy, that's great, Elliot." Beth's attention was draw from Nick as Zachary offered his endorsement. "My older brother's got a bigger one and it's a lot of fun. I can play 'Mary Had A Little Lamb' on it."

"Yeah, those things are a blast to fool around with," Danny added as he nodded his head.

Elizabeth smiled gratefully at the boys before turning her eyes back to her son. Placing the keyboard on the table in front of him, he fingered the keys. No sound resulted. "I've put batteries in it already, sweetheart. You just need to turn it on there." She pointed to an orange switch on one side of the instrument.

Small fingers pushed the button and moved back to the keys. He pressed several at the same time, and a jumble of uncoordinated notes issued from the speaker. He raised a big smile to everyone in the room. Beth felt an expectant satisfaction at that moment. It wasn't Beethoven's Fifth or even 'Mary Had A Little Lamb', but her son seemed to get pleasure from the instrument, and maybe it would lead to a further pursuit of music. She had high hopes.

"Well, I guess that's it." Jacob looked casually from side to side.

Elizabeth cast questioning eyes in his direction. _That's not right. There should be one more._ But before she could say anything her son beat her to the punch.

"No." Elliot's focus snapped up from the keyboard. He looked at Nick. "What about your present?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned to his father. "Where is it, Dad?"

Beth noted the inquiring expression on Nick's face as he looked over at the counter where all the presents had been sitting. She followed his gaze. It was empty. Her husband, who had also scanned the area in question, turned to their son and shrugged. "I don't see it anywhere. But it has to be around here someplace." He stepped behind the counter and disappeared from view as he bent down. Elizabeth sighed her relief when Jacob reappeared, the gift in his hand and a smile on his face. "Looks like it fell on the floor in all the excitement. Here ya go, Sport." Walking over to the table, he handed the box to its owner.

Glancing back at Nick, Elizabeth once again witnessed apprehension and doubt as concern clouded his eyes, fear of her son's reaction radiating from him. As before, she marveled at the strong emotion gripping him and wondered at its cause.

Elizabeth's gaze returned to her son. He flashed Nick a big grin before concentrating on the last unwrapped gift. A small envelope stuck out from under the bow decorating the box, but Elliot was so anxious to see what Nick had gotten him, he didn't even notice the card as he started to remove the paper.

After the wrapping was discarded on the table, Beth reached over and removed the card. The scene on the front was drawn in the fashion of a young child. It had been made to look as if it had been created with brightly colored crayons or markers. Pictured was a large yellow sun with a happy face smiling down on three children as they watered their garden of colorful flowers. Beth opened the card to find that it didn't contain any words supplied by the company that manufactured it, only a note written in Nick's hand. 'To the Little Man, A gift to nurture the soul. Happy Birthday. With love, Nick.'

The warmth of Nick's words curved Elizabeth's mouth as she closed the card. What had he given her son? She raised her eyes back to Elliot in time to see him reach into the box and pull out its contents. Her eyes widened in awe as she beheld the simple flute. It was intact. The fall from the counter didn't appear to have damaged it any.

She'd never seen anything quite like it. It was extraordinary looking, very old. She stole a quick look at her husband. From the expression on his face, she gathered he was as impressed by the instrument as she was.

Elizabeth looked at the detective. He had straightened from his leisurely stance against the counter and was intently watching Elliot's face for a reaction. She could almost feel the tension that held his body rigid as he awaited, hoped for, her son's approval. The concern she'd noticed on his face earlier as he'd watched Elliot open her and Jacob's gift made some sense to her now. They had both chosen to give Elliot an instrument. Hers was a very modern contraption with special buttons and abilities. His was a very simple, uncomplicated treasure from the past. Did he regret choosing the same type of gift she had? For herself, she much preferred the flute. But would her young child appreciate the wonderful antique?

Stepping closer to Elliot, Beth took a better look at the delicate pipe, a shiver of delight moving through her at the sight. It was exquisite. The piece had a primitive allure that was almost mesmerizing. The carvings that adorned it were simple, yet provided evidence of a very skilled hand. Their simplicity was in itself beautiful and added to the wonderful charm of the creation.

Archeology was not one of her strong suits, but she could tell the instrument was very old. How old she couldn't be sure. But the long faded colors on the carving, along with the worn appearance of the wood, told her it had seen a great many years. As she examined the flute, she wondered about its origin. Who crafted it? What part of the world did it come from? It was a wonderfully fascinating piece. She had several questions which she hoped Nick would be able to answer.

Elliot sat quietly staring down at the present. His expression gave little away as Elizabeth tried to gauge what he thought about the gift. He turned it around and around as he examined the figures portrayed on the piece of wood. After a few seconds, the movement stopped, and small fingers slowly slid up and down the pipe as they became familiar with the feel of the delicate carvings. He looked up and smiled at Nick as he put the flute to his lips and blew.

_Well, that's a good sign._ Beth mused as she listened to the sound of the flute.

The smooth, clear tone was not as high as she had expected. The fairly narrow diameter of the flute gave the impression it would produce a high, almost whistling sound. The nearly neutral pitch was a pleasant surprise and very soothing.

The sound of the flute grabbed the wavering attention of the other children at the table as three heads popped up and turned to see where the sound was coming from. Beth smiled as Zachary's fingers left the keyboard, and he sat seemingly entranced by the sound of the ancient instrument. She laughed to herself as 'The Pied Piper of Hamlin' quickly crossed her mind. As for the other two boys, Danny wasn't distracted for long and took the opportunity to confiscate the keyboard, while Tim, after smiling at the pleasant tone, silently turned his energy back to the cars.

Elliot continued to blow on the flute as he moved his fingers over the holes creating an awkward selection of notes. When he lowered it from his mouth, his smile returned. "Way cool. This is really neat, Nick." He held up the instrument. "Thanks. It makes a really cool sound. I like the pictures on it, too."

"Good." Nick almost sighed the word as the tension left his body and face. It looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Had he really been so worried that Elliot wouldn't like it? The detective finally permitted himself a smile as he continued. "I'm glad you like it, buddy."

"Pretty neat." Zachary piped up, his eyes fixated on the flute as he continued, "Hey, Elliot. Can I see it?"

"Sure. Here." Elizabeth noted her son's second or two of hesitation, as if he were reluctant to relinquish his gift so quickly, before he passed the flute to Zachary. He hadn't wanted to give it up so soon, but he'd chosen not to be selfish and his mother glowed with pride at his decision.

"Wow." Zachary fingered the wood as he examined it in much the same way Elliot had just done. "It's cool lookin'. It looks really old."

"It is. It's been in my family for many years." Nick volunteered.

Great. This was what Beth wanted to hear.

"Did your Dad make it?" Elliot asked.

"No." Nick stopped and seemed to consider something before continuing. "It's much older than that."

Before Detective Knight could say another word, the doorbell rang.

_Drat._ Elizabeth silently cursed the interruption. She held up a silencing hand as she addressed Nick. "Hold that thought. I don't want to miss anything." Looking at her watch, she turned to Elliot's friends. "Okay, guys. That's probably your parents. Let's grab your coats." She looked at her son. "Come on and say good-bye to your guests, Elliot."

Fifteen minutes later, after exchanged thank yous and pleasantries between both parents and children, the house was minus its three young visitors.

Nick, Jacob, Elliot and Elizabeth remained in the foyer as Elliot, a little more seriously this time, experimented with the pipe. He hadn't put it down since unwrapping it. A steady concentration tightened his features as he blew on the flute on his face, and she realized she really didn't mind that he seemed to have forgotten all of his other presents, including the one she and Jacob had given him. In fact, she was very gratified that he appreciated the unusual, enchanting antique. Besides, she knew in the end none of the presents would be ignored, not even the clothes.

Beth stole a peek at her watch. It was almost 8:30. Nick would have to be leaving very soon. But she didn't want him to get away without telling them more about the flute. As Elliot finished his 'song', she was about to ask the detective to continue telling them about its history when Jacob voiced his curiosity first.

He pointed to the gift as he addressed their son. "Can I take a look at it for a minute, Sport?" Elliot handed his father the flute. Jacob took a second or two to look closely at it. "This is a truly charming piece, Nick. How long has it been in your family?"

Beth listened with great interest as Nick told them of his ancestor's bravery and the history surrounding the creation of the ancient instrument. Her husband and son seemed just as entertained by the tale, if not more so. The wide-eyed 'wow' that escaped Elliot as Nick relayed the rescue of young Michael had conveyed how intrigued he was by what he was hearing.

_It's almost 300 years old. Incredible._

Elizabeth found the realization a little hard to grasp. It wasn't that she didn't believe what Nick told them, but having something as old as the flute, not to mention priceless, given to her young child was a bit of a surprise. She was touched beyond measure that Nick had given the heirloom to Elliot, but she couldn't help but wonder why. The flute impressed her as something the detective would want to remain in his family. A gift he would one day bestow on a child of his own. She knew Nick loved her son very much, but why not keep the antique in the Knight family? After all, it was only a matter of time before he had children to pass it on to, wasn't it?

Elliot had regained possession of the flute. He was well on his way to picking out 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,' and it tickled Elizabeth pink. She glanced at Nick who was also grinning his pride. When Elliot finished the hesitant, uneven tune, the detective praised his efforts. "That's pretty good, little man."

"Thanks." Elliot beamed in response to the compliment. "It's fun. It's neat to be able to figure out songs."

An understanding contentment seemed to enter Nick's eyes as he nodded. "Yeah. It is, isn't it? Playing makes you feel good deep inside. Satisfied. Accomplished. Happy."

"Happy. Yeah." Elliot repeated Nick's last word as he agreed with his friend. "Mrs. Johnson says the same thing."

"Your teacher likes music, too?" Nick asked.

"Oh, yeah. She's teachin' us how to read notes. We've got these flutaphones at school we play on. I can't wait to show her this." Elliot indicated his birthday present.

As Elizabeth listened to the exchange, the words on the birthday card came to mind, their significance suddenly very clear. On two rare occasions when they'd visited Nick's loft, Beth had persuaded him to play for them. She had watched in amazement as he'd closed his eyes and appeared to lose himself in the music as his fingers gracefully danced over the keys. His audience all but forgotten as he immersed himself in the joy and tranquility the piano afforded him. He'd given himself up completely to the experience and seemed to draw a kind of...strength from it, as though it provided him a sort of spiritual nourishment. And the intensity with which he played had given the impression it was a nourishment for which he was starved.

When he'd finished, the obvious satisfaction on his face had made her envious. His ability allowed him a type of peace she could only speculate about. 'A gift to nurture the soul.' That was what music, and the ability to play, meant to Nick-an inner fulfillment and happiness. It was food for the soul. And he hoped her son would someday be able to partake of the bounty.

Nick's sigh of resignation interrupted Beth's deliberation. He moved to Elliot, who stood next to her at the bottom of the stairs, and planted a quick kiss on the top of his small friend's head. "Well, folks. It's been great fun, but I've got to get to work. Captain Reese 'll have my head if I'm late again this week."

Elliot voiced his disappointment. "Oh, Nick. Can't you stay a little longer?"

"Sorry, little man, but I can't." The detective looked down into the pleading, freckled face with a smile of apology. Elliot's frustrated reaction was evidenced by the pout clouding his features.

"It's getting close to bed time anyway, young man." Beth informed her son as she tried to take some of the pressure off Nick. "You need to put your loot away and get a bath."

"Oh, Mom," was the dejected response.

"I know. I know." Elizabeth nodded as she sarcastically added, "Cruel and unusual punishment. But I think you'll live."

Nick affectionately mussed Elliot's hair. "Happy birthday, Elliot."

Brown eyes looked up at the blond man as a smile crossed Elliot's mouth. He was rewarded by being lifted into the detective's arms. As they hugged, Elizabeth heard Nick whisper into her son's ear. "Sweet dreams. Love ya."

"Love you, too." Her child kissed a pale cheek before being deposited back on the floor.

Jacob walked over and handed their guest his coat. "Thanks for coming, Nick. It meant a lot." He looked meaningfully at Elliot and smiled.

"It was my pleasure." Knight slipped into the black garment. "Like I said, I wouldn't have missed it for the world." He grinned at the birthday boy and then looked at Elizabeth. "Thanks, Beth."

The gratitude in Nick's happy eyes warmed her heart. "You're always more than welcome."

Glancing back down at her son, the detective winked before walking to the door. Just as he put his hand on the knob, Jacob snapped his fingers in a realization. "Hey, wait a minute." Nick stopped and turned to face Jacob, a questioning expression on his face. "I almost forgot to ask. Elliot and I are going to a performance of 'Peter and the Wolf' at the university this Saturday evening, and we were wondering if you'd like to come. Beth won't be able to make it. She promised a friend over a month ago that she'd attend her baby shower. How about it?"

Elizabeth quietly envied her husband and son as she waited to hear Nick's answer. She wanted to accompany them, but she had promised Nancy. And anyway, she really didn't want to miss her friend's party.

Nick studied the floor while he considered the invitation. "I do have the night off." Raising his head, he looked back at Jacob. "What time?"

"It starts at seven. I thought we'd leave around 6:30 or so. How does that sound?" Jacob asked.

Beth smiled her satisfaction as the detective agreed. "Great. Sure, I'd like to go."

"Cool." Elliot voiced his pleasure.

Giving his friend an affectionate pat on the back, Jacob smiled. "Terrific. You want to meet here around 6:30?"

"Sounds good." Nick looked from Jacob to Elliot. "See ya then." He flashed Elizabeth a departing smile and headed out of the house.

Beth stood behind her son and beside her husband in the doorway of their home as Elliot waved the flute in a gesture of good-bye to the departing detective. The evening had been a success, but she was relieved it was over. A house full of six-year-olds could do serious damage to one's state of mind.

Nick climbed into his car, and she once again considered the gesture he'd made with his gift. Recalling the anxiety that had seemed to all but paralyze him until he'd heard her son's approval, Beth questioned his motivation still further. It was as if he'd been desperate for Elliot to have and cherish the flute, as if it represented much more than a simple birthday gift.

It was, of course, more than a simple birthday gift, but the significance appeared to go even deeper than the obvious. Beth got the impression that Nick felt giving the flute to her son was the only way the instrument would be passed on. When he'd told them the history of the instrument, he had confided the maker's wish for the pipe. Nick's concern over giving the gift had been so great that it appeared as if he'd thought this was his last chance to see the legacy of the flute continue. Didn't he believe he would have children of his own someday?

A sudden sadness gripped Elizabeth. Maybe Nick couldn't have children. What a terrible tragedy if it were true. She sensed how much he wanted a family. But more than that, she'd seen, through his treatment of Elliot, what a wonderful father he would make. The idea that it might not be possible drew a great sympathy from Beth for her friend.

Looking down at the blond head of her son, Beth again blessed the day he'd come into the world. She couldn't imagine life without him.

Nick waved at the family standing in the doorway as he got into his car. Pulling out of the driveway, he pointed the Caddy toward the precinct. If the traffic was cooperative, he would make it with a few minutes to spare.

A satisfied smile played across his mouth. He felt gratified. Granted, the contentment was mixed with a lot of relief and a little embarrassment, but overall he felt good. Very good. His young friend had liked his gift. The peace that the knowledge instilled in Nick was a soothing balm on his troubled mind.

Even after Nat's words of encouragement, the doubts about giving the flute to Elliot had continued to hound him. And upon seeing what Beth and Jacob had gotten their son, the uncertainty had grown even stronger and had mingled with more than a little embarrassment. He should have thought that Elizabeth would have gotten Elliot something to do with music. She was so excited about his interest. It was only natural she'd want to encourage it.

When Nick had seen the keyboard, he'd regretted his choice of gift immediately. Choosing the same type of present as Elliot's parents had made him feel uncomfortable. Seeing Elliot's enthusiasm for the modern instrument had made his heart sink. When his gift had come up missing for that very brief time, Nick had silently wished it would stay missing. But it hadn't. And to his tremendous relief and delight, Elliot had liked the offering. Apparently, very much. It looked as if Nick's wish for the flute's future had a good chance of coming true. Only time would tell, but he held an encouraged hope in his heart. An unfamiliar optimism settled over his mind as he pulled the Caddy up in front of the precinct building.

End Chapter 9


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

He stood glaring through the two-way mirror at the man sitting at the interrogation table, an angry revulsion darting through him. Reese had been more than a little surprised when the scum had waived his rights to an attorney, saying he didn't see the point. Now he quietly waited to be questioned.

He looked very calm and controlled, his hazel eyes staring down at the table as they watched the index finger of his right hand trace an invisible figure eight over and over again on the wooden surface. There was no resemblance to the half-crazed maniac that Nick and Tracy had brought in an hour ago. Even with the cuffs on, he'd been more than a handful. But Nick's remarkable ability to restrain the suspect had kept the situation from becoming tempestuous. Where he got the strength, Joe didn't know. Knight wasn't really the muscular type. He was lean and hard, but never struck the captain as being a Hercules. However, he certainly knew how to handle himself. The uncooperative perp hadn't had a chance. Hardwick had looked as if he were being held by bands of steel as Knight wrapped restraining arms around him and pushed him into the holding cell.

To look at the man now it was almost as if he were a different person. The distorted, angry features were now relaxed while his demeanor had turned cool, almost to the point of being aloof. He'd calmed down almost immediately after Knight had 'put' him into the cell and had signed the attorney waiver soon after. The sudden, drastic change was creepy, but not totally unexpected. The information on the FBI flyer said he was prone to quick, extreme swings in mood and personality. One minute he was completely out of control, and the next he was composed and civilized. Just as he looked now.

_Civilized?_ Reese sneered to himself. _Hardly civilized._ A monster like Hardwick could never be described as civilized as far as he was concerned. Garrison Hardwick, on the FBI's top ten most wanted list for the last two months, raped and murdered little girls. There was nothing civilized about that.

Another wave of disgust hit Reese as he looked at the evil sitting in the next room. As soon as he'd seen the composite, he'd headed for the FBI file. Hardwick had escaped from the authorities while being moved from Illinois to Michigan to stand trial for one of the fifteen rape/murders he'd been accused of committing over the past eight years. How he'd eluded the all-out manhunt that resulted, Joe didn't know. Much less how he'd made it across the border into Canada. But he had.

And now Garrison Hardwick was in Reese's custody, safely off the street. But not before he'd victimized one of the children of Toronto. Joe felt the fury rise again as he thought about the unspeakable horror little Mary Huntsfield had been subjected to by the devil sitting on the other side of the glass. She'd only been twelve years old, for God's sake, right in the range of Hardwick's victims, ten to sixteen.

_Damn. How sick can a man get?_ But was Hardwick sick? According to the U.S. justice system, he knew what he'd done was wrong, and therefore was sane enough to stand trial for his actions. And he would stand trial. There would be no escaping this time. If the captain had to stand guard over Hardwick himself, the son-of-a-bitch would face justice. Whether it be in Canada or the United States.

Joe's slow sigh was the result of both satisfaction and disappointment. It had been too late to save Mary, but the covert scouring of Toronto over the last two days had been successful. The beast in the drawing was no longer loose. Thanks to a lot of good police work, a little luck and a favorable nod from the Man upstairs.

The two arresting officers entered the interrogation room. The suspect didn't acknowledge their presence. He simply stared down at the finger that continued to rhythmically move across the surface of the table. The uniformed officer standing guard backed into a corner as the two detectives walked around to face Hardwick. Joe turned and left the observation room to join his people. He wanted to be a part of this interrogation.

"Mr. Hardwick, you know we'll hold you until the FBI can pick you up and take you back to the States. But we need to establish a thing or two before that happens. Where were you on the thirteenth of this month? Five days ago, around three PM?"

The captain walked into the room as Knight spoke. He nodded a silent greeting to each of his employees as he took a spot next to the mirror through which he'd just observed the suspect. As with the first entrances, Hardwick didn't seem to notice him come into the room. He didn't appear to have heard the detective's question, either, as he continued to be fascinated with the movement of his finger. It was almost as if he were in a trance.

Knight walked around behind Hardwick. Captain Reese looked on as the irritation from the man's non-response shadowed the detective's face, a distasteful frown creasing his brow. He leaned down close to the seated man's ear. "I won't ask you again. Where were you on the afternoon of the thirteenth around three PM?" Nick's quiet voice was filled with such dark menace that it sent an uncomfortable chill down Joe's back.

The man at the table also appeared to be affected by the insistent tone, as he finally came out of his stupor. The movement of his finger stopped and he raised his gaze. It connected with the captain's, and Joe's heart all but froze in his chest. He was confronted by eyes that were stone cold, thoroughly lacking any kind of feeling. Vacant. Harsh. The sinister hardness spoke of a stark callousness the likes of which Reese had encountered only once or twice in all his years on the force. He felt the acid churn a fraction harder in his gut as he acknowledged its presence. The degree of brutality he observed in the eyes was rare, thank God. He hated seeing it again.

An unsettling shudder rushed through the captain as he suddenly recognized a single emotion in the cruel gaze. A wicked satisfaction lurked there, a baleful contentment that nauseated Reese as he became aware of it. This man had tortured and killed a little girl only days ago and he sat here now, gratified. It was nothing short of obscene. This was evil in its purest form. No one could convince Joe otherwise. There was no soul in the eyes that stared into his, just a vile emptiness. Even after everything he'd seen as a police officer, he was still confounded that 'things' like Hardwick existed.

The heartless glare moved from the captain to settle on Detective Vetter. Joe watched her meet the hard look, but noticed her cringe slightly as she too appeared to recognize the evil that stared back at her. The suspect finally spoke, his voice as devoid of feeling as his eyes and face. "I was here...in Toronto." Reese couldn't tell if the response was meant to be serious or annoying.

"Where in Toronto?" Knight asked, the subtle demand still coloring his tone. He moved around to place both palms on the end of the table as he leaned on it.

Hardwick's attention left Tracy and fell to Nick. The two men's eyes clashed. Knight was looking into the same malignant void the captain had witnessed only a minute ago, but the detective didn't seem to be affected by what he saw there. Nick held the cold stare with one of his own and for a brief moment, Reese was more disturbed by what he saw in his own man's eyes than by what he'd seen in Hardwick's.

The hard, unrelenting look held an understanding, a familiarity. It was almost as if Knight were looking at something with which he was well acquainted, as if what he saw didn't bother him because he knew it so completely. He recognized the evil, comprehended it and therefore was not alarmed by it. For that one second, Nick looked as cold and unfeeling as the man seated at the table, and the sight sent a jolt of surprise through Joe. It was a side of Knight he'd never seen. This new facet was, to say the very least, unnerving.

The silent battle was won by Nick as Hardwick dropped his eyes back to the table. For the first time since he'd been brought in ranting and raving, Reese saw a glimmer of emotion flit across the suspect's face. Fear. Blatant, paralyzing fear. What he'd seen in Knight's face had obviously caught him off guard and given him a hefty shock.

He fidgeted uneasily in his chair as he worked to recover his composure. He did so fairly quickly, and casually shrugged his shoulders before he spoke. "Where? Around. I don't know where for sure. Five days is a pretty long time. How should I remember where I was? Why does it matter anyway? Beside escaping from the morons in Illinois, what else am I supposed to have done?"

Joe couldn't help his exasperated sigh. This guy knew why he was being questioned. He'd been told twice already. He was jerking them around, and Reese wasn't in the mood. He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to the table. He was having a difficult time keeping the anger in check as he shook a finger at the suspect, his voice rumbling with the volume of his irritation. "Look, you..." As the profanity hovered on his lips, he paused. Taking a deep breath, he tried to compose himself. He didn't want to lose it in front of his people, much less let this bastard know that he'd gotten to him. He lowered his hand as he continued, but he was still finding it extremely hard to squelch the anger. "You've done a damn sight more than escape!" He faltered. _Easy, Joe. Take it easy._ Taking another steadying breath, he proceeded. "Mr. Hardwick...you're a suspect in a murder investigation. This one has your name written all over it. You signed a waiver giving up any right to legal representation during these questions. Now, tell us where you were on the afternoon of the thirteenth."

Hardwick remained silent.

Shaking his head in frustration, Reece looked back at Knight. This wasn't getting them anywhere. Nick acknowledged the gesture with an understanding nod, and Joe felt himself relax a little. The detective looked familiar again. The chilling persona had disappeared. Reese felt relieved as he recognized the change and watched a much more normal Nick address the black-haired man seated at the table. "Okay. If five days is too far back for you to remember, how about two days ago? The sixteenth, around nine PM? Where were you then?"

The suspect's gaze moved back to the table as he silently shrugged, his eyes following the movement of the finger that had once again started to trace the unseen figure eight. Joe could see now why Hardwick had given up his right to an attorney. He wasn't going to tell them anything. He didn't need a lawyer for that. The captain's patience had just about reached its end as he watched a smug smile cross the demon's face.

Nick straightened from the table. It was easy to see that he too was becoming very annoyed with Hardwick, his dark expression a telling sign of his growing irritation. As he pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants, a nod of his head indicated the scratch marks on the back of the suspect's right hand. "Where did you get those?"

It was Reese's turn to smile smugly as Knight brought attention to the marks. Garrison Hardwick might not be talking, but when it came right down to it, they didn't really need him to say anything. The blood, skin and hair samples Natalie had taken from him after he'd signed the waiver would do all the talking they required. Joe was sure they had this guy dead to rights in the Huntsfield murder. They only had to wait for the lab results to come back. But it sure would be nice to hear a confession, no matter how unlikely that appeared.

The arrogant smile on Hardwick's face turned into a wicked grin as his eyes traveled back to Detective Vetter. She unhappily withstood the scrutiny while the icy gaze moved slowly down her body and then back up to rest on her face. Her frown spoke loudly of her unease and distaste, as did the tone of her voice when she repeated Nick's inquiry. "The scratch marks, Hardwick. Where did you get the scratches?"

His eyes fell to his hand, its slow movement continuing. The grin widened. "From...someone...who...gave me just what I wanted, just what I needed."

"Who?" Reese joined Nick at the end of the table. He'd had about all he could take of this insolent, sick bastard. When he got no response, he motioned toward the uniformed officer, his incensed gaze still focused on Hardwick. "Get him outta here. He's not gonna to tell us anything. But...there's one thing I will tell you, Hardwick. Your evil won't destroy anyone else. Not if I have anything to do about it. You're done, through, finished. You understand that? Your depraved influence ends here."

"That's where you're wrong, Captain." Frozen, hazel eyes looked up at Joe. Hardwick's grin had vanished, his features now stern and serious. Reese was once again face to face with the harsh malignancy that was this man, and another chill shot over him as the suspect continued. "What is this?" Hardwick's eyes dropped for a moment to indicate the movement his finger still made on the table surface.

Nick, Tracy and the captain all glanced at the motion. Joe shrugged his shoulders. "It's the figure eight. So what?" He wasn't going to play games with this guy, but maybe the son-of-a-bitch would let something slip if he continued to talk.

The finger stilled as Hardwick slowly shook his head. "Maybe from where you are. But from where I am, it's infinity. You see, Captain, I'm not 'finished'. You can't stop me. You can't get rid of me. I go on forever. My so-called 'evil' will be here long after you're gone. It's infinite. It never ends. It has a life of its own, a power of its own. You can't destroy it or me." His focus moved from Joe to Nick. As he continued his rant, his voice became louder and strained with insistence. "You understand that, don't you, Detective? I've seen it in your eyes. It's a part of you too. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Maybe better than I do."

It was back. The same wild gleam that had been in Hardwick's eyes earlier as Knight wrestled him into the holding cell. Joe could feel the tension beginning to build. This guy was close to losing his grip again.

"Get him the hell outta here!" Reese commanded again. He didn't want to hear any more of this depraved nonsense. He also didn't want the suspect to completely lose it before they could get him back into a cell. The uniformed officer pulled Hardwick from the chair and quickly put the cuffs back on him.

But Garrison Hardwick wasn't finished yet. He refused to move, his frenzied stare still locked on Nick as he insisted. "Tell them, Detective! Tell these fools what they're up against! You know! You understand! Tell them! Ours is a power that can never be destroyed! Eternity is our destiny! Their paltry resolve can't stop us!"

Joe pulled the door open and yelled, "We need some help in here! Now!"

Two more uniforms rushed into the room and helped escort the suspect out. Hardwick continued his inane rambling as they pushed him into the bullpen. "Tell them, Detective! They can never do away with us! Our life-force is everlasting! We are much too strong!"

The door to the interrogation room banged shut, muffling the loud, hysterical voice on the other side. Joe turned to Knight. The detective stood staring at the now empty chair. If it were at all possible, he seemed to have grown even more pale than was normal. Hardwick's irrational words appeared to be having a strong effect on him. The frown on his face held the shadow of a painful confusion. Nick didn't usually let the things suspects spat out get to him. Reese wondered at the influence of these particular words as he kind-heartedly slapped his best detective on the back. "Nick? Nick, don't let that guy get to ya. He's spouting a bunch of junk. You know how some of these perps get."

"Yeah, Nick." Tracy added her encouragement. "The guy's a real sicko. He doesn't know what he's talkin' about. A person's evil living forever...what a load a crap. He's a nut."

As Joe smiled his thanks to Detective Vetter for her support, he thought he saw something flash across her face. Guilt? As if she didn't completely buy into what she was saying. _No._ He'd probably just misunderstood the expression. Of course she believed what she'd said. It was the truth. Hardwick's words were a lot of silly bull.

Knight raised his troubled eyes to Tracy and then the captain. A stiff smile tugged at his mouth as he nodded. "Yeah, I know. Crazy." He didn't sound too convinced.

"Exactly. Crazy," Reese reiterated as he tried to reassure Nick. He glanced at his watch. There were still a few hours remaining in the shift. The detectives should be able to get Hardwick's arrest report on his desk before they left for the day. He looked from one partner to the other. "I'll expect the report before you two book off." He turned to leave, but as he got to the door, he looked back at the team. "Excellent job, people. Getting that beast off the streets should make both of you feel very good. I know I'll sleep a little better today."

"Thanks, Cap. I have to say I feel pretty accomplished tonight." Tracy smiled. She playfully nudged her partner on the arm. "Definitely not helpless, eh, Nick?"

Joe was certain there was some deeper significance to the young woman's choice of words than what he understood. Something shared between the two partners. He was again encouraged by the growing closeness the private meaning indicated.

Knight looked over at Vetter, his forced smile becoming warm and genuine as some of the strain left his face. "Definitely."

Reese shut the interrogation room door behind him. He stood for a moment scanning the bustling squad room, a pleased smile on his face. They got him. He had a good group of people working for him, and they'd gotten a child killer off the street. Boy, he felt good. Sometimes he didn't mind this job at all. Not at all.

He headed for the water cooler. He felt so good, in fact, that he even thought he had a chance of getting a drink from the uncooperative contraption.

End Chapter 10


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Nick pulled open the door of the Raven. It was late, almost five AM, but that didn't matter. The music pounded loud and hard. It hit his sensitive ears like a bomb blast as he entered the club, but he welcomed the momentary distraction. Stopping at the top of the stairs, he quickly scanned the room. The usual sea of bodies had started to thin. He only heard one or two mortal heartbeats over the resounding drum of the music, the vampire number far outweighing the human.

Making his way down the steps and toward the bar, he looked past the hungry scrutiny of several pairs of preternatural, female eyes. The greater part of his attention was still fixated on what he'd heard earlier that morning, Hardwick's words running over and over in his mind. He couldn't get them out of his head. He'd been stunned by the mortal's remarks and accusation, the recognition that the accusation implied throwing him for a considerable loop.

_Damn! _

He'd had a couple of good days since Elliot's birthday. The child's delight with his gift had made him feel more content and at ease than he had in weeks. Why was he letting this one incident with Hardwick disrupt that contentment? But was it just this one incident? Not long ago, Shear had recognized him as a killer. Now Hardwick had appeared to have seen even deeper. Evil identifying evil? Nick had recognized it in the suspect's granite eyes. Why shouldn't the mortal have seen it in him?

When he'd left the precinct, he'd told himself he was going to the club to find Vachon and ask him what, if anything, he knew about the disappearing children Tracy had mentioned several days ago. But the inner voice had been much more honest about his motives. It wasn't police business that had brought him here. It was desperation, a desire to escape. Hardwick's recognition had made him feel caught, trapped. He was retreating, seeking relief.

He could have gone back to the loft and indulged in LaCroix's offering, but he found he couldn't bring himself to be alone just yet. Even though Janette was no longer here, he'd once again been drawn to this place. He still had family here, extremely important family.

His thoughts faltered, an unexpected calm washing over him as the reluctant admission surfaced. Important. Yes. No less than pivotal, really. Surprise rippled through the calm as Nick permitted the acceptance to take hold. After almost eight centuries, he was slowly beginning to come to terms with what LaCroix meant to him.

Oh, he knew, of course. He always knew. But he'd never really allowed himself to completely accept the high degree of significance his master held in his life. He'd always been too busy loathing, fighting and blaming to permit such a recognition. Denial and hatred had been his constant cohorts. But fighting LaCroix's close connection and influence no longer seemed important or possible. Maybe because the loathing was no longer there. The embers of resentment still lingered, but their glow was fading. And as the bitterness shriveled, so too did the will to keep struggling against their association. Their relationship had been through too much to continue as they had. Neither he nor LaCroix were the same beings they'd been a year ago.

As Nick reached the bar, he acknowledged that he was still lured to the Raven, not only because this was the one place he could come and not feel foreign or displaced, but because his master, his eternal father, was here. The admission took him aback, but it also provided an unexpected, steadying comfort.

"What can I get you?" the vampire behind the counter asked.

Nick, who was still digesting his concession, didn't hear the question. He stood silently staring down at the bar.

The barkeep snapped his fingers and tried again. "Can I get you something?"

Detective Knight heard him this time. Pulling his attention away from his meditation, he ordered. "A glass of the house stock." Ignoring the bartender's raised eyebrows, he took a seat.

A goblet was placed in front of Nick, the intoxicating scent of its contents bombarding his senses. He looked intently at the glass for a moment. This was what it all came down to in the end. This was what Hardwick had seen. The drinker of human blood. The taker. The killer. The evil. He picked up the glass and held it in front of his face as he continued to stare into the thick darkness. Would these few minutes of sensation and escape be worth the regret? Would he allow Hardwick's insight to push him further down the slope?

He started to slowly bring the glass to his mouth. As the luscious scent of the human blood saturated his every fiber, he remembered the ambrosia LaCroix had brought him a few weeks earlier. He had indulged the hunger the VR game had stoked by accepting the blood and glorying in the strength and control it had provided him. For a short time, he had forgotten about everything but his prey. He had been the superior vampire and very adept at the hunt. His quarry hadn't had a chance.

But it hadn't been long after the game was finished before he started to feel a twinge of regret for his weakness. Never mind that he had caught a killer. He had stumbled badly while doing it. _But..._ he silently admitted, _it felt good._ A shudder rushed though him at the forbidden confession.

As he made the blasphemous admission, the stab of guilt returned, and his own reassuring words to Natalie came flooding back to haunt him. 'It may not look like it sometimes, Nat, but we are trying.'

The glass' movement stopped just as it reached his lips. He gazed down into the life-giving liquid, a somber cringe of shame tightening his face. Was he? Was he really trying? He sat the untouched nectar back on the bar. _Yes,_ _dammit!_ He was trying. But was he trying hard enough?

"Something wrong, Nicholas? Is the vintage not to your liking?" the club's owner questioned.

Nick started as he heard the familiar voice. He'd felt the sensation of family somewhere back in his subconscious, but hadn't paid much attention to it as the conflict and guilt consumed him. His eyes left the blood-filled glass to settle on his master. The slight frown, along with the hint of irritation he felt over their bond, told Nick of LaCroix's disappointment in his last-minute refusal of the nourishment.

"I'm sure it's fine. I've just...changed my mind." Nick forced a tenuous smile.

LaCroix nodded in apparent acceptance of the response, but the look he gave Nick could only have been described as skeptical. "Mmmm. Pity. You don't know what you're missing. This recent acquisition has been most delightful to the palate." He opened his mouth as if to add something more, but seemed to quickly decide against whatever it was he was about to say. Instead, he flashed Nick an uninspired smile.

"I'm looking for Vachon." Knight used the half-truth as he stole a sideways glance at the telltale glass sitting in front of him. "I have a question or two for him."

"Indeed." LaCroix's eyes followed Nick's to the goblet before settling on his face. Nick read the comprehension in his master's features. The ancient vampire knew what had really brought Nick here, but he seemingly chose not to pursue it. "Not on a business matter, I hope? Has Vachon been a bad vampire, Detective Knight?" The sarcastic question, along with the mocking grin, irritated Nick, but only a very little. He was used to LaCroix's amusement at the expense of his latest incarnation.

He shook his head. "No. Not Vachon. But possibly another of our kind. Have there been any recent additions to the population that you're aware of? Any new vampires come to town in, oh say, the last three or four weeks?"

LaCroix took the stool next to Nick. Motioning for a drink, he shrugged his shoulders. "You know as well as I do that there is a constant fluctuation in the population, Nicholas. We come and we go. It's impossible to stay abreast of the movement, even for me."

It was true. But even so, if there was one place new arrivals would come, this was it. LaCroix was well aware of that, just as most vampires were. "I know," Nick explained. "But I thought you may have noticed any new faces that have shown up here recently."

Lucien's drink was placed before him. Nick watched, almost spellbound, as LaCroix took a long, slow swallow. Closing his eyes, the elder held the blood in his mouth for an extra second or two as he appeared to relish the taste before allowing the elixir to slide down his throat.

Nick pulled his eyes from the tempting performance as he fought back the consuming hunger. Letting his gaze rest on the bar, he waited for his father to finish. But it only took a second for Nick's eyes to once again be lured to the untouched blood in front of him, the gnawing thirst pounding at his unstable resolve.

LaCroix set his glass back down on the bar, and Knight felt a sudden, sharp tug on their link. Without saying a word, his master encouraged Nick's craving, the creator's strong impressions ringing clearly in his creation's head. _Yes, Nicholas. Take it. You need it. You want it. Allow yourself the renewed strength it will give you. Let it quench the unrelenting thirst. Permit it to soothe your troubled mind. It's for your own good, for the sake of your sanity._

_No._ Nick pushed back across the connection as his eyes locked with those of his maker. _Leave it alone, LaCroix._ He quietly glared his resistance and determination.

"As you wish, Nicholas." The elder voiced his response as he bowed his head and relented. "But...can you? You know I'm right."

Nick looked away from the superior gleam in his master's eye. The smug supremacy was annoying in and of itself, but it became even harder to endure as he had to acknowledge the ring of truth surrounding the statement. He _did_ want the blood. And his increasing need for it continued to be a strain on his control. But he couldn't give in to the need. He couldn't let his growing acceptance of his master sway him. He wanted his mortality more than anything. Didn't he? Didn't he want to banish the evil that had been so easily spotted by Hardwick? It could be banished. It was possible to defeat the darkness, wasn't it? He closed his eyes against the doubt that continued to seep deeper and deeper into his heart.

"And as for any new faces in the club..." LaCroix put the conversation back on track, a satisfied smirk lifting his mouth. "Yes. There have been a few over the last month or so. Why the sudden interest?"

Opening his eyes, Nick focused his attention on the question and the vampire who'd asked it. "There've been several child disappearances recently that look very suspicious. I was curious as to whether any of the new arrivals had a taste for young, very young, blood. One of us could be taking the children."

"Children? Young children?" LaCroix raised an eyebrow in surprise. "How young?"

"Five to eight years old," the detective offered.

"Not much more than a light snack," the older vampire noted matter-of-factly. "Hardly worth the effort, I'd think. However..." He picked up his glass and took another drink. "Blood from someone so young can be quite intoxicating and...addictive, or so I've heard. But you know about that already, don't you, Nicholas?"

"Addictive...yes." Nick whispered the agreement while his eyes moved from his master's face to stare unseeing over the other man's shoulder, an unpleasant image from centuries ago flashing through his memory. He felt a sickening sadness grip him as he recalled the short period in his life. He'd had firsthand knowledge of such an addiction, and if this was what was going on now, he had to put a stop to it.

"Antonio." LaCroix's observation brought Nick back to the conversation. He looked into the now concerned eyes of his immortal father, the elder continuing. "You never did tell me much about him, Nicholas. He is dead?"

Nick nodded. "Yes. He's dead."

"Well, it couldn't be him then," LaCroix stated sarcastically, but the uneasiness still lingered in his eyes. "Why do you think one of our kind is responsible for the missing children?"

"I'm not sure it is a vampire. There's no evidence to indicate that it is. Actually, there's no evidence or witnesses at all, and that's what makes me suspicious. The children are vanishing from their beds without a trace. The perp could be mortal, but a vampire with a taste for youth could more easily be responsible."

"Well, Nicholas, most of us aren't prone to bragging about our particular feeding habits. So I think you'll find it difficult to confirm your suspicion. If this is a vampire, and if he or she isn't messy, you'll only have your suspicion, nothing more."

Just as LaCroix finished the statement, the flash of something to the right caught Nick's eye. He looked to see a man approaching them. But the detective didn't even bother looking at the young vampire's face at first. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the movement of a Tooney as it rolled across the backs of the fledgling's fingers with a practiced ease. As the dual-colored coin flipped from finger to finger, the golden center caught the sparse light and flashed brightly in the dusky surroundings. The glint disappeared as the piece of metal made its way into the man's palm, but quickly flashed again as the coin started another journey across the back of his hand.

The sight was familiar, and for the second time in almost as many minutes, Antonio Caproni touched Nick's thoughts. But it was nothing more than coincidence, surely?

The young vampire stopped in front of the two older immortals. Nick's eyes left the coin to examine the visitor more closely. He was about Nick's height and a little on the thin side. His face was pleasant, one might even say handsome, with strong, chiseled features. Clear, gray eyes reflected the friendly smile on his generous mouth, while his shoulder-length, brown hair was neatly tied back in a ponytail. He looked to be the perfect example of a successful member of Generation X. But looks could be deceiving. His mortal appearance put him in his early twenties, but his immortal existence had been several years longer. Although not that much longer. Knight was certain the stranger was not too much older than one hundred years.

As Nick read the aura of the new vampire a little more closely, he picked up the sense of something else. Someone else. _Strange._

The feeling was faint, but definitely there. And stranger still, this dim presence not only felt much older than the fledgling's single century, but it also seemed familiar somehow. The essence of an unidentified vampire from his past? _Impossible._

But he couldn't shake the feeling. There weren't two vampires standing in front of him. However, that was exactly what he sensed. But how? It was inconceivable. There was a duality in this young immortal that Nick could neither understand nor explain.

"LaCroix," the new arrival focused on the ancient Roman, "I don't want to intrude, but I was on my way out, and I wanted to congratulate you on tonight's excellent show before I left. You have a true gift for insight. And for getting people to think."

"Well, thank you, Andrew. I'm pleased you found the show so stimulating." LaCroix looked at Nick as the compliment curved his mouth. "Tonight's meditation concerned facing and dealing with the crossroads in our lives, Nicholas. Making the right decision can be difficult. Sometimes we need a little...guidance. Did you, by chance, get to hear any of it?"

Nick read the meaning in his master's eyes. LaCroix had been speaking to him tonight. Exerting his influence. Not unusual. The elder vampire was leaning even now. Nick felt the very subtle pressure as a question pushed its way into his consciousness. Was he at a crossroads, a turning point? "No." He answered both LaCroix's and his own questions. "I was working."

"A shame," the Nightcrawler declared. "I think you would have found it most beneficial."

"I have my doubts about that." Even as he was beginning to tolerate his master's influence, Nick still couldn't give in to it completely. The instinct to rebel against the effort still flickered within him. "But, apparently Mr.-Andrew?" Nick indicated the fledgling with a gesture of his hand, "...wouldn't agree."

"Forgive me, Nicholas. I've been rude." LaCroix offered the apology before the introduction. "Allow me to present Andrew Fisher. Andrew, Nicholas Knight."

Andrew held out his hand as Nick stood. "A pleasure to meet you, Nicholas."

"Nick, please." Knight grasped the friendly hand, and another jolt of cognition bolted over him. The second presence was suddenly much stronger. An eerie chill ran down Nick's spine as a name swept into his mind. Antonio Caproni again pushed his way back to the forefront. The impossible was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, as the presence of the centuries-dead vampire became more apparent. He was here. Incredibly, somehow, Caproni was here. There could be little doubt. It was his spirit, for lack of a better word, Nick felt through this young one. His being. His soul, perhaps?

Knight looked into Andrew's gray eyes as they shook hands and saw what he thought was recognition lurking there. As though something in this fledgling knew him very well. Nick noticed something else, too. Instead of seeing a shared surprise and confusion in the stranger's face at the unusual circumstance, Detective Knight gleaned only a tranquil, understanding acceptance. It was as if this situation was not entirely new to Fisher, and, as a result, he wasn't startled by it.

"Nick." Andrew corrected himself as he released Knight's hand. "And you're right, I would have to disagree with you. LaCroix's wisdom would be a benefit to most everyone. Mortal and vampire alike." The younger immortal stared intently into Nick's eyes. "Prudence should never be taken lightly, Nicholas."

The words echoed in the detective's head as they sent his thoughts back in time.

ITALY 1520

"Prudence should never be taken lightly, Nicholas." The aristocratic vampire shook his brown head as he watched the beautiful, auburn-haired woman glide away from the table, disappointment evident on his scowling face. "Nor should it be taken for granted." Turning his attention back to Nicholas, he followed his companion by returning to his seat. "Heed what I say. You've been hurt, but you can't give up on the fair sex all together, my young friend. Feeding is one thing, but spending time with one of your own kind is quite another. And it is something for which you are in considerable need."

A tolerant smirk tugged at the corners of Nicholas's mouth while he listened patiently to the familiar words. He could recite them backward for as many times as he'd heard them over the past six months. Since meeting Antonio Caproni and confiding his recent loss, Nicholas had been subjected to more than one lecture on the need to move on. Tony meant well. And Nicholas did appreciate the concern. But he just wasn't ready. Not yet. It was still too soon.

With a nod of his head, Antonio indicated the door through which the lovely vampire had just exited the small pub. "She wanted you. Very much. And you need her. Very much. You need to lose yourself in her. Forget. Heal. Move forward."

"I can't." Nicholas shook his head. "Not yet."

"Ah, well." The Italian took a deep, resigned breath. "I'm only expressing what I think is best for you, my friend. I'm older and have experienced more. You should listen to the wisdom of age and experience, young one. It has no equal." He paused thoughtfully for a moment as a wistful smile lifted his lips. "I must say, I look forward to meeting this Janette one day. She must be very special indeed."

A sharp pain shot through Nicholas' heart at the sound of his lost love's name. A day hadn't passed since she'd walked out on him that he hadn't thought of her at least once. But after confiding to Antonio what had happened, neither had spoken her name. There had been no need. Whenever Tony brought this subject up, they both knew the source of Nicholas' pain and reluctance.

Hearing her name now only served to bring the hurt closer to the surface once again. Janette's departure had devastated him. It had also angered him more than he'd thought possible. She had deserted him, and he would find it difficult to forgive her. But as with most things in life, time was taking its toll on his ire. The fury was starting to dim only to be replaced with a deep sense of loss. A painful emptiness shadowed his existence now, but he had no desire to try to fill the void. And he wondered if he would ever be able to repair the gap. As he viewed the prospect now, he truly didn't believe it was possible. His love for Janette still had a tight grip on his heart.

"Yes, she is...very unique."

The solemn tone of Nicholas' voice brought a short, incredulous laugh from his comrade. "Oh, come now, my young friend." Raising a hand, Antonio indicated the window over their table. "The beautiful, spring night lays before us with an exciting promise of luscious adventure and satisfaction. Don't let melancholy thoughts of the past put a damper on that promise. You are too easily disheartened, Nicholas. Sometimes it is simple to understand why LaCroix felt it necessary to leave you alone for a while. You have a way of bringing one's spirits down, my boy."

While unburdening himself to Antonio, Nicholas had also mentioned his master's impatience with his attitude. He couldn't help the rueful smile as he remembered LaCroix's chiding words. 'You've been moping for over a month now, Nicholas. If you don't snap out of it soon, I'm afraid I shall have to leave you to your own devices for a time. You really are much too gloomy to be around.'

It hadn't been long after that declaration that his father had done precisely what he'd threatened. But Nicholas knew the separation wouldn't last long, and he drew solace from the knowledge. At first he had been grateful for the solitude. But it hadn't taken too much time for him to grow tired of his own company. It was then he met Antonio and forged this new friendship.

"I apologize, Tony." Nicholas' smile brightened. "I promise. No more despondency tonight."

"Splendid. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm famished." A wild, passionate gleam entered his brown eyes while his voice softly reverberated with a vivid, barely-controlled urgency. "And I've picked out a special treat for myself to which I am anxiously looking forward. A tender morsel guaranteed to stimulate seldom reached heights of sensation."

A profound anticipation of the night's feeding momentarily consumed Nicholas' friend. The thrill of the hunt, followed by the indescribable fulfillment achieved when the lucid ache of the hunger is finally calmed by a mortal's warm blood, were things every vampire experienced. It was a possession, an addiction, Nicholas knew all too well. But the untamed intensity that emanated from Antonio on occasions such as this was disturbing even to one who understood the thirst. And these displays of powerful, almost demented, arousal were becoming more frequent. Tony's 'special treats' were apparently becoming more than an occasional indulgence, and Nicholas' curiosity about the objects of his companion's desire was starting to build.

"Well, it sounds as though you have an interesting evening planned. Shall we hunt together tonight?"

At the suggestion, the elder's expression and demeanor suddenly changed. He appeared reluctant and somewhat...nervous? As he shook his head, he pulled a lira from a pocket and began to walk the coin over the backs of his fingers. It was a habit with which Nicholas was well acquainted. "I...I think not, my friend. Not tonight. Why don't I meet you back here in a few hours? We can amuse ourselves at one of the minstrel shows on the outskirts of town."

Nicholas was not surprised by the negative response. He and Antonio rarely hunted together, and never on the nights when the Italian mentioned his 'special' prey. Even though Tony's unease piqued his curiosity further, Nicholas wouldn't push himself on his companion. If his friend didn't want his company, he wouldn't force or badger him. "As you wish, Tony. I'll see you back here in an hour or two."

Antonio smiled as he stood, the relief on his face plain to see. The coin continued its unrelenting journey over the back of his hand as he spoke. "Wonderful. Until then, my friend." He bowed his head and took his leave.

As he watched Antonio walk through the door, Nicholas' curiosity poked him again, and the deceptive thought of following his friend entered his mind.

"You should listen to this young one, Nicholas. He is wise beyond his years." LaCroix returned Andrew's compliment and pulled Nick back from his recollection.

Nick simply smiled his response, not wishing to get into the validity of his maker's statement in front of the subject of said statement.

Fisher boyishly grinned his pleasure at LaCroix's words. "Well, I really must be going. The sun will be rising soon, and I have a few things to do first. Again, congratulations on the show tonight, LaCroix." He looked at Nick. "It was a pleasure meeting you...Nick. Maybe we can get together again sometime. Discuss the wisdom of the Nightcrawler, perhaps?"

"Yes. It might prove very interesting," Nick agreed. Although he had no real desire to debate the virtues of LaCroix as the Nightcrawler, he did want to examine his peculiar reaction to this vampire a little more closely. Maybe ask Fisher a few questions. Try to get some insight. Confirm his suspicion if possible.

Andrew bowed his head to both of his elders before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Nick stared after him, still confounded by the feeling he'd just experienced. Had LaCroix sensed anything unusual in the fledgling?

Turning to his master, Nick questioned. "Did you feel that?"

LaCroix looked at him, the hint of a perplexed frown creasing his brow. "Feel what? Really, Nicholas, do you always have to be so vague?"

Nick took an impatient breath. Even though LaCroix appeared slightly confused by the question, Nick still got the impression he understood what he was being asked. "The presence. The other vampire. I sensed two distinct auras coming from Fisher. His own and someone else's. A much older incarnation. Did you feel it?"

Lucien shrugged. "Of course I felt something different about him. Exactly what it was, I can't be sure. But it was probably just the strong influence of the one who brought him across. It is unusual, but not completely unheard of. He is still quite young."

"No. It was someone different." Nick insisted.

"And how would you know, Nicholas? Are you familiar with Andrew's master?" LaCroix took a quick sip from his glass, his growing impatience visible in the movement.

"No. But I am familiar with the older presence I felt, and the vampire I sensed couldn't have brought Fisher across. He's been dead for over 400 years. Or so I thought." Nick listened to his own words and had to admit to himself that even he found them hard to believe. But he knew what he'd felt.

LaCroix chuckled softly as he focused cynical eyes on his creation. "Oh, come, Nicholas. Are you trying to tell me that you believe Andrew is sharing his body, his consciousness, with another vampire? A vampire who died 400 years ago? Don't be absurd. It's not possible. Dead is dead, even for a vampire. You know, my boy, you really must stop drinking that bovine swill. It's starting to affect your reason."

Nick sat back down and gazed unseeing into the thinning crowd on the dance floor. Hearing his suspicion voiced in such a way made him hesitate. Maybe he was mistaken. His state of mind hadn't been the best of late after all. Two vampires sharing one body? One vampire possessed by the soul of another? It sounded ridiculous. More than ridiculous, it sounded crazy. But crazy or not, he had sensed two individuals, one of which he knew well. He turned his attention back to his maker. "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm telling you it was him. It was Caproni. I don't know how, but it was."

"Caproni?" LaCroix's mocking tone disappeared as the urgent note in Nick's voice seemed to sober him. "You're convinced the presence you felt was Caproni? You can be that certain?"

"I'm positive." Knight captured his father's gaze and held it with a serious intensity. "As impossible as it sounds, I felt him almost as strongly as if he had been standing here in the flesh. His being. His essence. His...soul? It was here."

The elder sat quietly for a moment as he appeared to contemplate Nick's steadfast assertion. After a minute or so, his features softened. He placed a reassuring hand on Nick's arm. "If you feel that resolute about it, Nicholas, I believe you."

Nick hadn't realized how much he'd wanted his mentor to believe him until he heard the words of acceptance and felt the calming mantle of contentment settle over him. "Thank you, Lucien."

He watched his gratitude bring a delighted sparkle to LaCroix's eyes. And as he studied the contented expression on the ancient vampire's face, he was overwhelmed by an amazingly potent wave of approval flowing over their link. His father was reinforcing his assurance, and it afforded Nick a soothing strength. At the same time, he experienced a healthy dose of the pleasure he detected in LaCroix's eyes, and the satisfaction spread through Nick, as well.

It was moments like this when he felt closest to his eternal father. Moments when Lucien wasn't objecting to him or his actions, but was understanding and supportive. Instances such as this were few and far between, and Nick appreciated them greatly when they occurred. Even though he was trying to break free of the existence LaCroix represented, Nick still, deep in his heart, craved his master's regard. It was an extreme contradiction, but he just didn't seem to be able to help it.

LaCroix gave Nick's arm a gentle squeeze before breaking the contact, an amused smirk crossing his face. "You realize, of course, your discovery means Caproni is truly immortal. He does indeed go on forever. A droll little twist in our reality, wouldn't you say? It makes one wonder how many others of our kind still walk the earth outside of their own bodies. What are the chances, if these bodies are destroyed," he motioned from himself to Nick, "that our essence will find refuge, life, in the flesh of another?"

Nick was struck by the question and the possibility it considered. What consequence, if any, could this 'twist' hold for him? If he regained his mortality, probably none. If he didn't, would he never be able to find release, even in death?

The pounding of the music suddenly stopped as the last song of the morning came to an end, indicating that the close of the club was imminent. An abrupt silence blanketed the room and served to pull Nick away from his thoughts. Sensing the intrusion of the sun as it inched higher and higher toward the new day, he acknowledged the need to head home, but he had one more question for the Raven's owner. "Do you know how long Fisher's been in town?"

Picking up his glass, LaCroix took another drink before answering. "I'm not really sure, Nicholas. As far as I'm aware, he's been coming to the club on and off for about the past two months. What are you suggesting? That he might be your child snatcher?"

Rising from his seat, Nick nodded. "It's a possibility. You wouldn't happen to know where he lives, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't. I'm not the address book for the community, Nicholas. You'll have to discover that on your own, Detective."

Nick smiled at his master's insinuation. He never missed an opportunity, and, of course, he was correct. He wasn't the address book for the community. "Very well. Good-day, LaCroix."

"Good-day, Nicholas."

As he made his way to the door, Nick was once again all but oblivious to the happenings around him, the fledgling and his 'condition' dominating the detective's attention.

Once the music stopped, the remaining occupants of the Raven had quickly begun to disperse. There were only a few left, and they were on their way to the exit, as was his son. LaCroix watched Nicholas' retreating form with a continued sense of encouragement, but he couldn't ignore the subtle apprehension that mingled with the optimism.

His favorite creation had sought out the club this morning in order to indulge his nature. Well, perhaps he hadn't been driven so much by the need to indulge, but by the desire to retreat. But the reason was of no real consequence to LaCroix. The effect was all that concerned him, and he was most definitely pleased with the effect.

Anytime Nicholas found it necessary to recoil from the mortal world, he celebrated the withdrawal and took the opportunity to push his influence a little further into his protege's psyche. The more Nicholas experienced the compulsion to escape from humanity, the more he found refuge with his own kind, and the stronger the hold of his true nature became. This morning had been such an occasion. And although Nicholas had once again summoned the will needed to resist the temptation of the blood, LaCroix knew his son was finding his self-imposed abstinence increasingly difficult to maintain. Hadn't Nicholas 'fallen off the wagon', so to speak, several times in the last few months?

But the Raven's owner had an even more important reason to be enthused by his son's late morning visit. In addition to this most recent display of desperation, LaCroix had sensed an acceptance and affection from his offspring that had sent a delicious thrill moving through him. The feelings weren't altogether new. He'd gleaned his creation's devotion on other recent occasions. He and Nicholas were growing closer. It was a gradual process, but it was happening. The intensity of those earlier feelings, however, didn't compare with what he had felt this morning. Not at any other time during their slowly, but steadily, renewing affinity had Lucien sensed this strong a tenderness, this forceful an understanding. Nicholas seemed slightly dumfounded by the emotions, but his master couldn't have been more pleased by them.

The unconscious grin dissolved from LaCroix's face as the ill ease he'd acknowledged only moments ago subdued his enthusiasm. Nicholas' bizarre claim had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. At first, he'd thought the guilt had once again robbed Nicholas of his delicate sanity. And even after having dismissed that as a possible explanation for his son's off-the-wall declaration, LaCroix had been nonetheless prepared to discard the ridiculous assertion without much consideration. Nicholas had allowed his all-too-human emotions to get the better of him. It certainly wasn't the first time. In fact, it had become much too familiar, not to mention tedious, over the last several centuries. But the conviction with which the boy had confronted him had made him stop and reevaluate his initial reaction. After all, he himself had felt something out of the ordinary. And he'd been forced to concede that his explanation for the sensation, although very plausible, didn't really ring true in this circumstance. The presence had been very strong, and he believed there had to be more at work than simply a master's influence emanating from the fledgling.

But possession by the soul of a dead vampire? No, not soul. Vampires no longer had a soul. What then?

Was he foolish for believing in Nicholas' interpretation? His knowledge and experience whispered yes, but his trust in, and love for, his son told him no. Nicholas had been sure of his impressions, and LaCroix had confidence in those impressions.

The idea of possession was something he had not even considered credible until a few months ago. That night at Vanderwal's had been enough to change LaCroix's perspective forever. The battle to reclaim his beloved child from whatever entity had taken Nicholas over had opened the general's eyes to the possibility and the reality.

An uncharacteristic shudder swept through Lucien as he recalled the feeling of utter helplessness that had held him captive while he watched the demon steal from him his most prized creation. There could be no worse sensation in all the world. To look on as someone you love beyond measure is ripped from your life while you are forced to stand by powerless to do anything about it. The recollection, even now, made him seethe with anger. Helpless was a state he hated beyond all others. Especially when it concerned his protege.

But in the end it had not happened. The spirit had not won. He and Nicholas had defeated it together. Their belief in the good that still dwelled inside Nicholas had finally been enough. For once, LaCroix had been grateful for his son's lingering morality. The fact that he'd acknowledged its presence at all spoke loudly as to how desperate the ancient vampire had been to hold on to his Nicholas.

Lucien's thoughts wavered a moment. Had he really told Nicholas there was God in him? God? Yes, he supposed he had. _Oh, well. No matter._

No one or no thing would take his son away from him without a tremendous fight. He'd done what he'd had to do to keep Nicholas with him. That was the bottom line. That was all that mattered.

A triumphant smile lighted LaCroix's distinguished face. If it hadn't been for that experience, he may never have accepted the boy's explanation tonight. But as it was, even though he still found the whole prospect uncomfortable, Nicholas' insight could not be ignored.

His gaze fell from the door to quickly scan the club. The place was empty now. Lifting his half-full glass, he finished the contents in one long gulp. He sat the empty container down and looked over at the bartender who was well on his way to getting things cleaned up and ready for closing. "William, I leave the locking-up to you."

The other vampire silently nodded his agreement.

LaCroix walked to his private domain at the back of the Raven. As he closed the door to his apartment behind him, he wondered further about Nicholas' discovery. In all his 2000 years he had never run into a situation such as this. The possibility intrigued him considerably. Did vampires possess the strength to transcend physical death? Could their will to survive be that powerful? How intense did that desire have to be? At his age, he'd been able to cheat death more than once. But should he ever fail, would his life-force be strong enough to find refuge in another? It took him no time to conclude that yes, yes it would. If it were indeed possible, he could do it. Particularly if his departure meant leaving Nicholas behind.

Straightening from the door, LaCroix moved toward the bedroom. With a heightened sense of his vampiric power and invincibility, he looked forward to a renewing, strengthening sleep.

End Chapter 11


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

He picked up the note from the kitchen table. It was scrawled on the back of a grocery store receipt.

Stopped by to drop off some more of my culinary delights. I didn't change anything in the recipe since you seemed to tolerate the last batch so well. Ah, you did, didn't you? Anyway, I had to pick up some food for this gray, fuzzy thing I have running around my apartment, so I didn't stay. See ya tonight.

Nat

P.S. You need some notepaper in this joint.

Nick's frown lifted only slightly as he read Natalie's words. Putting the paper back on the table, he slid his coat off and threw it on a chair.

Nat. Beautiful, caring, optimistic, mortal Nat. He should have gone to see her instead of running off to the Raven. Told her about his encounter with Hardwick. Confided to her how he felt and what he feared. Yeah, maybe he should've. Should've...but didn't. Couldn't.

He had thought about it. For about one second. Then the need to withdraw had driven everything else from his head. All that remained had been a singular urgency to seek out his own kind, a fierce compulsion to get away from the thundering heartbeats, the rushing blood. He'd once again been caught, discovered, recognized for what he truly was, and it had pushed him to seek refuge from the humanity he precariously mimicked. He hadn't wanted to be around mortals, any mortals. Particularly the one mortal who he would hurt most by his unnatural desires and his inability to control them.

Turning from the table, Nick walked to the refrigerator. He stood glowering at the closed doors. He hadn't wanted to cause Natalie more pain, more disappointment. She'd been so happy when he'd told her how much Elliot liked the flute. Her smile had brightened every corner of the dingy morgue, not to mention the darkest recesses of his cold heart. She'd made him feel more euphoric than ever about the occasion. And his raised spirits had gone a long way toward encouraging her about his attitude. It hadn't been difficult to see the secret hope in her eyes, the positive light that glowed from within. He couldn't bring himself to dash that hope. He couldn't stand to watch as the light faded into nothingness, knowing once again he was the cause.

With a more forceful tug than was necessary, Nick opened the refrigerator. Sitting in front of the bottles of blood were three very familiar, plastic containers. His eyes moved from the plastic to the glass and back to the plastic as he hesitated, the hunger wracking his body while the guilt attacked his mind. But he was trying. He hadn't given up. Picking up a plastic cup, he removed the lid. A thick, metallic odor wafted from inside, causing a surge of protest from his stomach when it hit his senses. His body didn't want the protein drink. It didn't need the protein drink. His body wanted blood. It needed blood. As much as he tried to deny it, tried to change it, the fact still glared him in the face. He was a vampire and he needed blood to survive. Would he really alter that reality with these concoctions?

As he looked down at the pale, pink liquid, Nick shook his head. He didn't know. He just didn't know. Could evil be exorcised with protein powder? The absurdity of the question brought a bitter snort of laughter from the vampire. Of course there was more to it than that. But could 800 years of evil be exorcised at all? Or would it stay with him, consume him, forever? Was it invincible? Just as Hardwick had claimed?

Hardwick. Why was he worrying about the ravings of a depraved mortal? But he wasn't depraved, not really. Not when it came to his assertions about Detective Nicholas Knight. And that was the whole point. The 'sicko', as Tracy had referred to him, had seen right through the facade, the lie. He'd recognized the vampire for what it really was. Evil. A killer. A kindred soul? Isn't that what Shear had called him? He'd denied it at the time, but wasn't it the truth?

_No._ He'd killed because he had to in order to survive. It wasn't the same thing. He was nothing like Shear or Hardwick. Nothing. He hadn't simply chosen to go out and become a murderer. Nick's train of thought slowed to a crawl. Ah...but hadn't he? Immortality had come at a stiff price. It had cost him his soul, his humanity. He'd made the choice to become a vampire. He'd made the choice to give up his mortality. Therefore, hadn't he made the choice to become a killer, a murderer?

His conscience rejected this conclusion as he grasped at an excuse for the decision he'd made so very many years ago. He'd had no idea what he was getting himself into, not a clue as to what it all really meant. Until it was too late, that is. But did ignorance absolve him of the consequences of his actions? Did it make him unaccountable for what he'd done? No, it didn't. In the end, he had to own up to the choice he'd made eight centuries ago. Own up to it, and, at the very least, try to make up for it. At the very most, try to change it, or, as the case may be, its result. And when it was all said and done, maybe that was what separated him from Shear and Hardwick. Maybe his effort to atone was his saving grace. Maybe.

Nick brought the mixture up to his lips and took a healthy swallow. _Ye Gods. These things are worse than dead blood. _

He felt his gut lunge with another objection when the shake reached its mark. His gaze moved longingly to the green bottles sitting in the back of the refrigerator. The shake had done nothing to ease the hunger. He'd only had a small amount, but it really made no difference how much he drank. Even if he downed the whole thing, the need would still burn just as brightly. Natalie's cocktails never did quiet the thirst. Even so, he would try again. This was part of the penance after all. Closing his eyes against the queasiness, he forced himself to take another drink.

But would his desire for atonement be enough to rid him of the evil that held him so securely? He returned the unfinished protein mixture to the refrigerator as Hardwick's heated words ran through his head. 'My so-called 'evil' will be here long after you're gone. It's infinite. It never ends. It has a life of its own, a power of its own. You can't destroy it or me.' How true were those words? For the mortal, they were a delusion surely. However, if what he'd discovered this morning at the Raven was any indication, for the vampire, they were more true than Nick had ever dreamed possible.

Closing the door, he walked away from the refrigerator to shut the blinds. Nick watched the steel curtains slowly grind into place, severing him completely from the world of daylight. As the rays of the new sun disappeared behind the shutters, he allowed his mind to wander back to earlier that morning. Antonio Caproni. He was positive it had been Antonio Caproni he'd felt. A vampire who had been dead for 400 years. But he wasn't dead. At least not in the spiritual sense. His essence lived on in the body of another vampire, or so it seemed. It still struck Nick as fantastic when he thought about it, but the feeling had been so intense, so clear. Had Tony's desires, his hunger, his evil, kept him alive? Did it truly have a life, a power, of its own?

Antonio had relished being a vampire. He'd reveled in it. Almost as much as LaCroix. He had savored the superiority. The heightened strength, and everything else that went along with being a vampire, he'd seen as the ultimate achievement. The killing hadn't bothered him at all. He was a creature that needed blood to live. As far as he'd been concerned, it was as simple as survival of the fittest. Mortals were lesser beings that provided sport, satisfaction and nourishment. They were to be enjoyed, not revered.

And enjoy them he did. Very much so. Especially a certain group. Nick's discovery of Antonio's special feeding habits had come as a shock. One that he never would have experienced had he done as his friend asked and minded his own business.

ITALY 1520

Nicholas rose from his seat and left the pub. Outside, he took a deep breath of the clean, spring air. It was filled with a plethora of blood scents, the mortals around him unknowingly calling to the vampire. He was hungry. Where would he hunt tonight? The opera? Perhaps something a little less cultured. The minstrel show? He smiled. A brothel?

Suddenly he couldn't help but wonder where Tony was going to do his hunting and on what particularly he would be dining.

_No. _

Curiosity was a bad thing. He'd told his friend he would leave him alone, and he would. But even as he made this silent declaration, Nicholas closed his eyes, and, reaching out with his senses, scanned the area for any sign of Antonio.

He began to walk. Down the cobblestone street, past the various taverns and toward the more affluent part of the city. There weren't many vampires in the area, and Antonio wasn't too far ahead of him. Nicholas picked up on his friend's aura fairly easily. He told himself that he'd opted for culture and was merely heading to the opera house for his meal. However, by the time he'd passed the establishment in question, he had to concede his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Tony was somewhere not too far ahead. He would do a little harmless investigating and then be off to calm his thirst.

_Harmless investigating? More like nosy snooping, wouldn't you say?_ Nicholas' inner voice of conscience corrected his observation. Well, yes, he supposed it was true. But it was nonetheless harmless, wasn't it? _Breaking a trust? Harmless? Hardly. _

Nicholas stopped in his tracks. What was he doing? He was meddling. That's what he was doing. The very thing he found intolerable in LaCroix. He'd let his inquisitiveness turn him into a prying busybody. It had him sneaking around like a thief in the night. Didn't he have better things to do than spy on his friend?

His attention drifted from the individual ahead of him as he took a brief look around. He recognized his surroundings. The area was one of substantial wealth, several grand apartments scattered amongst the impressive homes. Antonio's villa wasn't all that far from this spot, he noted inattentively as the guilt over his behavior resurfaced.

Slowly shaking his head with the shame of his petty actions, Nicholas turned to retreat from the pathetic pursuit. But as he started to walk away, he paused. He could still feel Tony up ahead, but the Italian was no longer alone. Nicholas heard no conversation, only the beating of a mortal heart as it broke through the silence that blanketed the darkness. It was a quick, light sound, like the fluttering of a bird's wing. A surprised unease spread through him as he acknowledged the delicate cadence. The heart was young.

_It has nothing to do with you. Mind your own concerns. _

Nicholas ignored the sudden feeling of dread that rushed over him and continued his withdrawal. After a few steps, he glanced around for any human eyes that might be looking his way. Finding none, he took to the air.

Thirty minutes later, after having indulged on an exceptionally luscious barmaid, Nicholas made his way back to Antonio's villa. The elder vampire had invited him to stay at the opulent dwelling several weeks back, and Nicholas had taken the Italian up on his generous offer. The apartment he'd been staying in was very comfortable, but couldn't compare to the wonderful accommodations Tony offered.

Nicholas landed in the rear gardens and quickly surveyed the area. The house was quiet. The few servants his host employed stayed during the day only. The activities that sometimes occurred in the villa at night were not for mortal eyes, and none had permanent, twenty-four-hour, residence.

Walking through the door leading to the kitchen area, Nicholas strode to his rooms. He entered the richly-furnished sitting room with its Persian rug and gilded-framed paintings, and stepped into the bedroom. He had left this evening with hardly a lira in his pocket. If they were going to spend time at the minstrel show later, he would need more money.

He'd pulled the strongbox from under the huge, canopy bed and was retrieving the key from the breast pocket of his coat, when he felt another vampire enter the house. _Antonio._

Unexpectedly, the fluttering heart was still with him. Nicholas' curiosity pulled at him once again.

_It's none of your business. Get what you came for and leave. _

With deliberate quickness, he took what money he needed from the box and slid it back under the bed. With a hand holding back the thick, brocade tapestry curtain which served to protect the room from the unwanted rays of the sun, Nicholas stood poised at the window. Ready to make an unnoticed exit, he wavered. The youthful pulse throbbed a little more quickly now. And as a muffled cry of terror shattered the unnatural silence of the house, the guest turned from the window and followed the sound of the now fading heartbeat.

He found the source of the dying sound in Antonio's arms. The elder vampire was seated on the edge of his ornately carved, four-poster bed, bent over a young girl who lay motionless across his lap, his fangs still buried in the tender flesh of the child's neck. One more frail beat, and the small heart fell silent. Nicholas watched with hushed dismay as Antonio lifted his head, a look of pure ecstasy on the Italian's face.

Nicholas' stunned gaze moved from his host to rest on the ashen features of the youngster, his sudden sadness a wave of physical revulsion writhing in his throat. The girl couldn't have been more than six or seven. A lovely child who would have grown into a beautiful woman. But it would never come to pass. Brown eyes, once sparkling with the light of life, now stared unseeing up at the ceiling, fixed and dull. The horror of the last sight they'd beheld frozen in their innocent depths for all eternity.

Pulling his attention from the disturbing picture of the dead child, Nicholas focused his sights back on Antonio. The older immortal's eyes were closed while he basked in the rapture created by the young human's blood as it surged through his body. The satisfied smile that lifted the Italian's lips brought an answering scowl to Nicholas' face.

"Why?" The question was little more than a strangled whisper from Nicholas as he struggled to overcome his initial alarm.

Antonio's eyes snapped open. They were still flecked with gold as he looked at the intruder. It was obvious he'd been so immersed in the experience of the kill that he hadn't felt his guest's presence. At first, surprise was the only expression visible in his expression. But an amused resolve soon took its place as he stood from the bed, the child's body draped over his arms. He walked to stand a few feet in front of Nicholas, his voice light with his unconcerned attitude. "Why?" He seemed genuinely perplexed by the question, his eyebrows lifting slightly as he repeated it. "You ask why? But you already know the answer, my young friend. I am a vampire. That is why. No other explanation is necessary. Like you, I do what I must to survive. But...unlike you, I seek to savor and enjoy my extraordinary existence to its fullest."

Taking a step closer to his host, Nicholas reached out a tender hand to close the young, lifeless eyes of the girl. As he lowered his hand, he gently ran the back down a soft, pale cheek. "But a child? A lovely, innocent child? She was so very young." He stumbled over the last word, still finding it difficult to speak.

"She was a mortal, Nicholas. A delicacy. An unparalleled experience of sensation." The Italian looked down at the youngster in his arms with a contented sigh before concentrating his attention back on Nicholas. The brown eyes reflected a sympathetic, yet mildly impatient, visage. "Nicholas. Nicholas." The subtle disappointment in Antonio's tone caused the younger vampire to bristle slightly. "You are deeply upset by my choice of meal. I knew this would be your reaction. That is the reason I did not confide in you. I knew you would not approve."

The numbing sorrow was beginning to melt, and Nicholas' voice now resonated with the growing anger that started to overtake him. "She was only a child, Tony. How could anyone approve of feeding from one so young?"

Turning, Antonio bent to lay the small body on the large bed. As he straightened, he fixed his guest with a look of guilt-free, unremitting smugness, the casual countenance stoking the rage that continued to build in his fellow immortal. He didn't seem to understand or accept the justification for Nicholas' objection to his action. And even if he did comprehend it, he wasn't about to acknowledge it. "I'll admit my preferred prey is a little out of the ordinary, but I wasn't aware of a law, or rule, forbidding us to partake of any type of nourishment we choose as long as it is done in a manner that does not endanger the community with discovery." The disappointment in his voice slipped into condescension. "Really, Nicholas. You are so quick to judge. You have no idea what you are condemning, what you are missing. The exhilaration of young blood is like nothing you have ever felt, I can assure you. Children...well-fed, well-cared-for children, offer an excitement and satisfaction that I can't begin to describe. There is nothing like the life-force of a child. Once you have tasted the sensation, the intensity of feeling and emotion, it is difficult to give up." Pausing, he looked deeply into his companion's eyes. "It is impossible to give up."

Nicholas held the intense stare and recognized the frantic spark of dementia that once again danced in Tony's eyes. Blood was a staple for a vampire, a singular necessity. But a certain type of blood could evidently become an addiction. And as the younger vampire looked into the dark depths of that obsession, he felt compassion for his friend calm the anger that gripped him. Even though he had accepted what he'd become, Nicholas had yet to completely shake the remnants of his mortality. He continued to feel the stirrings of a conscience deep within him. Tony had witnessed a moment or two of the doubt those stirrings caused and had scolded his friend for what he'd called 'an unreasonable weakness'. It was through this conscience that Nicholas saw all vampires, especially himself, as victims of an unnatural obsession. And it was through this conscience that he now sympathized with Antonio and felt the need to encourage him. "If you try, you can resist the temptation, Tony. I know you can."

"Resist?" The word shot from the Italian in the form of an incredulous laugh. "You presume a great deal, my friend. Why would I want to? Why should I have to? I am doing what my nature dictates, Nicholas. I find no shame in that. No reason to alter or 'resist' my desires. We kill to survive. We kill to feel life. The age of our prey is of no concern, only what we gain from it."

His gaze fell from the wild, unrelenting conviction in his friend's eyes, and Nicholas knew that whatever else he might say would fall on deaf ears. The other immortal didn't see things in the same light, and Nicholas became painfully aware just how little he really knew Antonio. Feeding on children was something he had not expected from Tony. It was also something he could not accept.

He looked to the body laying on the bed. The sorrow resurfaced while he took in the shoulder-length, brown curls and the pretty face, long, thick lashes resting softly on flawless skin. His examination also noted the lovely, well-tailored dress she wore, the pale blue silk shimmering in the moonlight that poured through a heavily curtained window. As Nicholas acknowledged how impeccably dressed the child was, he realized she had come from a wealthy family. She had been well cared for, more than likely loved, and probably very happy. Recognizing these things, a question crossed his mind. He cast inquisitive eyes back on Tony. "Why prey on a child of good standing? If you must, why not at least take-"

"The small, human rats that scurry in the street?" Antonio seemed to read his guest's mind as he interrupted him. "Act as an angel of mercy and release them from their hell on earth?" An arrogant smile curved his mouth as he slowly shook his head. "Nicholas, you really are still quite mortal, aren't you?" He turned back to the bed. Sitting down, he ran a light finger across the pinkish-gray puncture marks on the child's neck, his sights remaining on the wounds when he spoke. "What I do, I do for my benefit. For my pleasure. Children from the street are hideously scrawny-unappetizingly malnourished. They are not as pleasant to the palate. But more importantly, they are a hard lot. Emotionally, I mean. They are very callous for ones who have lived such a short time. They have to be, I suppose. They've seen and experienced things that have made them tough beyond their years. Their innocence, and the strength of feeling that goes with it, is compromised. Pampered children are soft and exceedingly vulnerable. That makes them perfect. It makes them irresistible. The degree of emotion that can be rung from a happy, healthy child at the time of the kill is inconceivably delicious."

Savage, brown eyes collided with dejected, blue ones for no more than a split second before Nicholas spun on his heel and stalked out. He couldn't stand to be in the same room with Antonio another minute. The elder's nonchalant, yet menacingly calculated, attitude toward the killing of children thoroughly disgusted him. But what repulsed Nicholas even more was the spark of curiosity his host's description had kindled. Even as his conscience was sickened by the thought of taking blood from one so young, the beast, the vampire, wondered what the taste, the sensation, would be like. His barbaric speculation brought with it a renewed surge of shame.

Nicholas quickly fled Tony's influence, retreating to his rooms to silently leave through the window as was his original plan.

Unceremoniously dropping the remote onto the coffee table, Nick walked back to the refrigerator, the unpleasant memory weakening his determination. At the time, he had been thoroughly revolted by both himself and Tony. The recollection only served to bring that feeling back. Not only did it bring back the disgust, but it also brought back the unwanted temptation.

Opening the appliance door, he barely resisted the lure of LaCroix's gift and pulled out a bottle of his own acquisition. He drank deeply, the blood taking the edge off his hunger and giving him the strength to beat back the terrifying curiosity.

Lowering the almost empty bottle from his lips, Nick stared into the green glass, a dark frown etched on his face. He'd killed a barmaid that same night four centuries ago. Did the fact that she had been a young woman, an adult, make his action somehow more acceptable than Antonio's? Had he been that big a self-righteous hypocrite? They had both taken a life in order to survive, and, if he allowed himself to reflect on the memory clearly, they'd both killed for the feeling, the pleasure it gave them. Looking back on it now, he knew one death had been no less wrong than the other, but he still couldn't help but feel Tony's action had been more immoral than his. The view continued to ring loudly of hypocrisy, but he didn't seem to be able to alter the way he saw the whole thing.

Its contents gone, the bottle was tossed into the trash as Nick turned his thoughts from the past to the present, specifically to the fledgling he'd met earlier at the Raven. Unfortunately, however, he couldn't ignore the past where Andrew Fisher was concerned. The younger vampire appeared to have an extraordinary link to history. One that would continue to remind Nick of Antonio Caproni no matter how much he might want to forget the Italian.

At this point, Nick had all but convinced himself that Fisher somehow carried with him, either consciously or unconsciously, the essence of Antonio Caproni. If this were indeed the case, how strong could Tony's influence be? Was Andrew responsible for the missing children? Could Antonio's bloodlust be that strong? Or, maybe Nick was barking up the wrong tree, accusing Fisher of something for which he was not responsible. After all, there was no evidence Andrew had anything to do with the disappearances. Nick had absolutely nothing other than a feeling based on a 400-year-old memory and an outrageous impression, his conclusions founded merely in guesswork and supposition. He needed to talk to Fisher and try to get some answers. His peace of mind, what little peace his mind could conjure up these days, wouldn't let him rest until he resolved the disturbing questions that continued to gnaw at him since meeting Fisher. He had to know if his suspicions were correct, or if he were simply losing his mind.

A part of Nick opted for the insanity plea. Because if his impression was right, if Antonio lived on through another, what did it say about the soul of a vampire? What did it say about his soul? Could he ever find rest, release? Or, even upon his death, would his evil continue to thrive?

Exhaustion tugged at Nick's eyelids. Abandoning the disturbing speculations, he moved to the staircase. He didn't know how much sleep he would get, but he had to make the attempt. Maybe he would be able to get the answers he sought tonight. With legs that suddenly felt as if they were made of lead, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

End Chapter 12


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

He landed beside the building behind several tall, immaculately sculpted evergreen bushes. A quick scan of the area, with both his eyes and ears, confirmed that his arrival had not been witnessed. Turning his focus to the building, he hesitated for a moment in the semi-silence of the brisk, night air, the occasional car on the street, along with the low throb of a pulse or two coming from inside, disturbing the would-be serenity. Two days ago at this particular time he'd been confronting a serial killer. Now, after telling Tracy he'd had an errand to run, he was preparing to face another killer, one of his own kind. He suddenly felt strangely uneasy over the prospect.

As his master had so sardonically suggested, Nick had done his job and easily located the home of Andrew Thomas Fisher, supposed 28-year-old computer programmer from Cincinnati, Ohio. The background information had been thorough. Aristotle certainly hadn't lost his touch.

Nick moved to the front of the condominium. It was opulent, located in one of the more affluent parts of the city. Oddly enough, before moving into the Raven, LaCroix had lived not far from these very apartments. As he walked up to the door of number two, Nick noted the ancient, Italian stucco style of the building and an ironic smirk lifted a corner of his mouth. _How like Antonio to live in a place like this_, he thought. The grin vanished quickly as he caught himself. _Antonio? No._

He was letting his speculations interfere with his common sense. Antonio hadn't chosen this place. Nick was here to talk to Andrew Fisher and find out if his theory had any basis in fact. Still, the architecture of the condo certainly added to the impression of Tony's influence, but it could just as easily be a coincidence, and probably was. This whole thing had to be a crazy misinterpretation on Nick's part. It had to be.

Like LaCroix had said, 'Dead is dead, even for a vampire.' But Nick needed to reaffirm the certainty of that statement. The speculations that had been swirling around in his head the last couple of days had him doubting what logic and his experience told him to be true. When a vampire was killed in one of several specific ways, they died. Period. End of story. But what happened to their souls? His concern over the question had even gone so far as to cause him to distrust his own very personal dealings with death, or rather, 'near death'.

He'd realized years ago that he would not take his own life. His exposure to the field damper had reasserted that position, and his attitude had yet to change. He still found life, no matter how difficult it had become, preferable to death. But should his existence ever become burdensome, should the circumstance of the past year, or future years, push him too far, he was afforded a secret, melancholy comfort by the knowledge that death would always be there to release him if he so desired. Erica had found peace, hadn't she? Her spirit had walked the earth for only a short time, hadn't it?

Nick stood outside the entrance to Fisher's condo, poised at the door, unsure about his next move. What was he going to say to him? How was he going to approach the subject? He hadn't really thought about it until this very minute. _Hi, Andrew. Remember me? I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to ask if you're possessed by the spirit of a dead vampire._ An impatient quirk twisted Nick's mouth as he shook his head at the feeble attempt. _Oh yeah, that sounds good, very smooth._

Raising a hand to the door, he prepared to knock, although he knew the announcement wouldn't be necessary. He sensed the vampire's presence inside. The unusual, disturbing duality of the fledgling was easily gleaned, and as he picked up on it, he felt a foreboding frost trickle along his spine. The second, older presence was subtle and somehow distant, but it was there. Nick knew, just as he sensed Andrew, the other immortal could perceive him also. His assumption was promptly verified when, before he made contact with the wooden door, it opened, and he was greeted by the smiling face of Andrew Fisher.

The fledgling's cheerful eyes met Nick's as he spoke. "Nicholas...Knight. I didn't think it would be too long before you came looking for me. Come in, come in." Stepping back from the doorway, he gestured for Nick to enter the room with a sweep of his hand.

Somewhat surprised by the enthusiastic welcome, Nick hovered in the doorway a moment before walking past Andrew into a small foyer, which opened into an expansive living room. As Fisher closed the door, Nick took quick stock of the area.

As he'd expected, the surroundings appeared more than comfortable. A thick, luxurious, deep gray carpet covered the floor. At the windows hung heavy embroidered curtains of black and gold that, when drawn, would effectively block the dangerous rays of the sun. The centerpiece of the room was a large, stone fireplace situated on the right wall as you entered from the front door. Its old-world mystique set the tone for the rest of the furnishings, which consisted mainly of richly carved woods and dark, brocade fabrics. Again, Tony's influence stared back at Nick through the decor of the room.

Focusing his attention on his host, Nick observed Fisher more closely. He was dressed in blue jeans, a brown, crew-neck sweater and tennis shoes, his hair neatly pulled back as it had been the first time they'd met. Nick couldn't help but think how the youthful vampire looked somehow out of place amongst the antique fixtures.

Meeting Fisher's eyes again, Nick noted what he thought was an amused gleam lurking in the gray depths. "Thank you, Andrew. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, certainly not. I was just about to have some refreshment. Can I offer you a glass? I have some very fine stock. But then of course it would be. I, like most, get my supply from the Raven. LaCroix does an excellent job with his acquisitions."

"Nothing for me, thanks." Although he knew the human blood would tempt him, Nick wasn't hungry, having passed up Nat's fresh protein drinks to feed on his usual sustenance before leaving the loft tonight.

"Can I take your coat?" Fisher offered.

"No." Nick shook his head. "I won't take too much of your time. I just have a question or two."

Andrew bowed his head in silent acceptance before walking to a wet bar located at the far end of the room. Moving behind the bar, he retrieved a bottle from the small refrigerator and popped the cork. The intoxicating aroma of the bottle's contents took little time to permeate the air. The muscles in Nick's back stiffened slightly as the blood-scent hit him, awakening the eternal thirst that was never really dormant. Silently cursing the saliva that had rapidly pooled in his mouth, he swallow hard as he watched Fisher pour a glass and return the container to the refrigerator before strolling back into the living room to settle in a high-back, oak chair positioned next to the fireplace.

After taking a long, slow drink, a contented smile softened Andrew's features as he looked back at his guest. "All right, Detective, I get the impression you're not here to discuss the wonders of the Nightcrawler. So, what can I do for you?"

Nick's eyebrows lifted as Fisher's knowledge of his occupation caught him off guard.

Andrew read the gesture perfectly and explained. "You're somewhat of an anomaly, Nicholas, and, therefore, well known in the community. Surely you're aware of it? Once I'd met you, the whispers I'd been privy to fell into place, and the subject of those whispers had a face."

A thoughtful frown creased Nick's brow, his eyes dropping to the floor. He knew his quest for mortality was no longer a well-kept secret, it hadn't been for several centuries, but he'd had no idea he and his search had become such common knowledge as to be community gossip for every new vampire that came into town. The realization did not sit easily.

He was certain the enforcers were aware of his attempts at salvation, but since he had yet to find success, they left him alone. At least that was the only reason he could fathom for their non-interference up to this point. But regardless of the unlikelihood of enforcer intervention, Nick still wasn't happy about being the object of community prattle.

He decided against pursuing the subject any further and steered the conversation toward the reason for his visit. Stepping a few feet farther into the room, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black coat, he allowed his curiosity full reign. "When you met me at the door a few moments ago, you said that you didn't think it would be too long before I came looking for you. What did you mean?"

Fisher flashed Nick a knowing grin before setting his glass on the end table next to his chair. "I read the recognition and confusion in your expression the other night at the Raven." Standing, he moved to the fireplace and stared intently into the amber flames, his smile becoming distant, almost solemn. "I've seen the look before. Only once before, but it's a singular expression one doesn't easily forget. The sensation you felt then, and are feeling now, has raised a question or two that you feel I can answer." He looked back at Nick, his left eyebrow raised in a subtle challenge. "Am I right?"

"Yes." The word was little more than an astonished whisper as Nick took a few steps closer to his host. Like a moth drawn to the bright, clean light of a flame, unaware of the hazard it invited, he was transfixed by the answer, his curiosity stirred further by the matter-of-fact accuracy of the fledgling's response. He had to know more. "Like every vampire, there's more to you than meets the eye, but unlike any vampire I know, or have known, there's something else, something unique. A duality that I don't understand, have never experienced. Am I imagining it or is it a legitimate feeling? You talk as if I'm not the first to have recognized the sensation."

Andrew turned his sights back to the fire, the distant expression still shrouding his features. "No, you're not the first. Actually, I'm sure every vampire I meet can feel something, but almost none can relate that feeling to anything or anyone. You have a point of reference to compare the feeling. You've experienced the sensation before because you're familiar with the vampire from whom the feeling comes."

The hairs on the back of Nick's neck were jolted to attention as the prickling sensation skirted across the skin. His presumptions were creeping ever so slowly closer to fact. It seemed as though Fisher was well on his way to confirming his troubling suspicions, and the realization brought with it an increasing discomfort. A slender strand of dread cut through his heart as he pushed the younger vampire further. "The person? Not you? Someone else. You...but not you?"

"Well, that's one way of putting it." Turning back toward Nick, Andrew cast him a charmed smirk. "I'm here, but, as you seem to have already surmised, I'm not alone. I suppose you could call it me...but more than me. I share my existence with another of our kind."

The last words brought a soft gasp from Nick, a stunned numbness spreading through his body. He'd been right. There was no crazy misinterpretation, no overactive imagination. There was now only a confirmation.

He should have been prepared to hear it. After all, he wasn't learning anything he hadn't already guessed himself. So the statement really shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. But actually hearing the words had nonetheless knocked a bit of the wind out of his sails. Working to gather his composure, he reluctantly admitted to himself that one more suspicion had to be confirmed. A name, he needed to hear a name.

"Who?" His mouth had gone very dry. Nick heard the question, but wasn't sure if he'd been the one to ask it. The voice sounded so removed, so foreign, so strained.

Amused eyes held the detective's, a hint of cynicism shadowing Fisher's expression. "I think you already know who, Nicholas." Without looking away, Andrew pulled a tooney from his pocket and began the coin's steady journey back and forth over the backs of the fingers of his right hand, the smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I share my consciousness with a very old friend of yours-one Antonio Caproni."

There. It was official, so to speak. It was preposterous, unbelievable and extremely confusing, but it was true. Andrew was being honest with him. He knew it deep down in the pit of his stomach.

Nick groped for some semblance of satisfaction from the fact that he'd been right all along. At least he wasn't going crazy. However, the grain of contentment he gained from the knowledge did little to offset the more unsettling aspect of the discovery. Death did not necessarily guarantee an end for a vampire.

As the confirmation sank in, the disbelieving numbness started to fade. Nick's curiosity took control once again. In an effort to clear the remaining remnants of the fog that clouded his brain, he blinked and re-focused his eyes on Andrew. But even as he was accepting what he had just been told, his logical mind still refused to give in to the impossibility of the situation. "I watched Tony die over 400 years ago. And you're telling me that he's still alive...inside you?"

"Did you watch him die that night, Nicholas? Did you really?"

Nick listened to the incredible questions and his thoughts were once again propelled backward in time.

ITALY 1520

Nicholas took to the sky, the need to get as far away from Antonio as possible pushing him higher and higher into the cool, night air. But no matter how high or how fast he flew, he couldn't erase the image of the dead child from his mind. She had been so young and beautiful, so innocent, so pure. The sorrow welled up in his eyes as a hint of scarlet tinted the blue depths. Blinking, he pushed the unwanted display of feeling out of sight.

Raising his head a little more, he let the wind rush over his face, imagining that the force of the air would be enough to wipe the memory and the emotion from his head. But, of course, it was no use. The current did nothing more than cool his already cold skin. And the subtle, disgusting ache of curiosity that lingered in the shadows of the beast's thoughts only served to heighten the anger and sadness that held him captive.

He tried to rein in the whirlwind of emotion in order to think more clearly. But he just didn't seem to be able to calm the storm. All he could concentrate on was getting away, moving on. He would leave the villa tonight. But...what of the children in the city? Could he leave Antonio behind to prey on the young innocents of the town? His thoughts faltered. But could he, in all conscience, do anything else? He couldn't kill Tony for being a vampire. Because that was truly what this boiled down to in the end. Tony was a vampire doing what his kind had to do to survive. Did choice of prey make that much difference? They were creatures that killed in order to live. He couldn't condemn Tony for something that was a necessary part of his survival, for something that was necessary for his own survival.

No. He would simply leave. He really had no other alternative. He wouldn't stay and be witness to Antonio's obsession. And other than trying to talk the elder out of his choice of prey, which he had already concluded would be futile, Nicholas had no right to try to stop him. No. He would find a place to stay somewhere in the city until he made arrangements to leave. Perhaps he would travel back to France, or maybe England. He might even run into LaCroix some place along the way.

Turning, he headed back toward the city to Antonio's villa. He would quickly collect his things and be gone.

Entering the grand house the same way he'd left it less than an hour ago, Nicholas stood motionless in the silence of his bedroom. Reaching out with his senses, he scanned his surroundings. Antonio was still in the house, but no other presence, human or vampire, was evident.

A twinge of regret stopped Nicholas as he moved to begin gathering his things. Looking around the comfortable room, he considered the friendship he'd furthered in this place. The mornings spent in happy, thoughtful conversation. The evenings spent in anticipation and camaraderie. The sympathetic ear and wisdom that had helped to ease his pain. The kindness that had soothed his loneliness. Was he willing to toss it all aside because of his discovery? But could he forget what he'd seen and disregard his feelings?

Walking to the closet, he pulled out his case and began packing his few belongings.

Just as he closed the full satchel, he heard the knock on his door. He'd felt Antonio's approach even before he'd heard the rap. A wave of resignation washed over him. He was going to have to face Tony one more time before he left, if only to thank him for his hospitality. Now was as good a time as any, and, considering he was close to being ready to leave, it was the only time.

"Come in." The invitation was short and stiff as Nicholas tried to keep his still stormy emotions beneath the surface. He would go through the formalities as sedately as possible and be on his way.

The door opened slowly, a neglected hinge squeaking sharply with the movement. Nicholas turned to see Antonio hesitate in the doorway before taking one step into the room. The rigid stature of the Italian's shoulders communicated his unease, as did the rueful half-smile that pulled at his mouth. The smile, however, fell when his eyes encountered the suitcase lying on the bed. "You're leaving." The statement held only the smallest degree of astonishment. It was barely noticeable. He didn't seem too surprised by the observation, only doleful.

"Yes." Nicholas lifted the case and set it on the floor. Looking back at his host, he bowed his head. "I think it's for the best."

"Mmmm." Nodding thoughtfully, Antonio focused his eyes on the satchel. "I thought you would see it that way." He raised his attention back to his guest and flashed an uninspired smile before the frown moved back into place. "It saddens me to find that my behavior has been such a disappointment to you. So much so as to drive you away. But, Nicholas...I find it even more disheartening to realize that you must be such a disappointment to yourself. I see no difference in what we are, or what we do. How do you make the distinction?"

"There is a fine line, Tony. One that I choose not to cross."

"There is no such line, Nicholas." Antonio scoffed at the answer. "There are no lines, no boundaries, for a vampire. And we are the same. You're a self-denying fool if you believe differently."

The harsh words cut deeply and stoked a white anger in Nicholas. Taking a resolute step forward, a staunch refusal on his lips, he froze, the beating of a mortal heart stifling his retort.

Acknowledging the abrupt pause, a puzzled frown shaded Antonio's face. "What is it?" But before he had finished the question, a light of understanding replaced his dark expression as it became apparent that he too sensed the intruder.

At that same moment, Nicholas' eyes were drawn to a sudden movement behind his host. The glint of the moon off a silver cross registered first, and he hissed at the sharp pain caused by the sight of the religious symbol. A fraction of a second later, he spied the crossbow pointed at Antonio. Responding by instinct alone, he pushed the elder vampire out of the way just as he heard the trigger release a deadly bolt. In the next instant, the sharpened wood ripped through Nicholas' shoulder, the excruciating pain dropping him to his knees.

Momentarily paralyzed by the attack, he watched through amber eyes as Antonio scrambled back to his feet. Yellowed-eyed and fangs bared, the Italian hissed his discomfort at the still visible cross. He was forced to keep his distance as the trespasser quickly reloaded his weapon. Raising the crossbow again, the interloper took aim at Tony's chest and released another bolt. With unnatural speed, the vampire dodged the small stake, and in no more than a flash of saving himself, stood directly in front of the mortal with his back to his injured friend. Nicholas heard the predatory growl issue from the elder immortal as Antonio knocked both the cross and crossbow from the stunned mortal's grasp. Gripping the man by the throat, Tony lifted him in the air over his head as he spat his contempt. "You absurd, insignificant creature. Your arrogance will cost you your pitiful life."

Antonio languidly lowered his victim down to within reach of his fangs. Nicholas looked on in awe as an easy smile crossed the intruder's face. The man hovered at the jaws of death, yet still seemed confident in his task. A strangled pledge left him as he reached inside his coat. "No, demon. Your insolence has cost you yours. I send you back to the hell from whence you came."

For a mortal, the move was extremely swift and strong, Tony's body stiffening with the power of the sudden blow. Nicholas' breath caught in his throat as he helplessly witnessed the attack. For several drawn-out seconds, the Italian stood unmoving, as if rooted in place by the surprise of the unforeseen assault. The mortal, still dangling in Tony's grip, had a sick, wide-eyed wonder on his face as he stared at the result of his deed.

The charged, eerie stillness was suddenly shattered when Nicholas heard a thunderous growl of pain and anger issue from Antonio as he swiftly and forcefully hurled the mortal against the far wall, the broken body falling in a fleshy heap on the floor.

Grabbing his chest, Tony turned to face his guest. The stake had found its mark, buried deep in the vampire's heart. The agony in Caproni's eyes was mixed with a shred of bewilderment as he fell to the floor.

Forgetting his own injury, Nicholas pulled himself to his feet and staggered to his friend's side. On his knees again, he lifted the Italian's upper body from the floor and held him in comforting arms.

The elder looked up into his companion's face and forced a stilted whisper. "Well, my young friend, it would seem the job has been done for you."

Grasping the Italian's meaning, Nicholas' eyes widened in shock. "No, Tony. I would not have destroyed you. I'm leaving. Remember?"

A gurgling cough forestalled the response at first, but as the bout subsided, Antonio offered a frail smile. "Ah, but it did cross your mind, didn't it, young Nicholas? And I'm afraid your still all-too-human heart would have brought you back here in the end, a guardian angel of the helpless innocent." Tony's chuckle lapsed into another round of coughing.

After it had quieted, Nicholas sadly replied. "No. I would have left you alone."

"I wonder?" The weakening vampire paused for a moment, another spasm of pain wracking his body. When it had passed, he locked his dying eyes with Nicholas' and another short laugh escaped him. "The demon/archangel Nicholas." His voice was barbed with sarcasm. "How contrary. How ridiculous. How...sad. You-" His labored breathing forced him to pause. "You'd better come...to terms with what you truly are, my friend. You have been given...the precious gift of eternal life. You should...appreciate and revel in it."

Gazing down at the fatal injury to Tony's heart, Nicholas couldn't help but disagree, the sorrow tightening his chest. "Maybe not so eternal, my friend. Even vampires die."

Fighting for his last breaths, Antonio objected to the finality of the statement. "Ah...but do they? Do...they really? This...is not...the...end for me...Nicholas. I'm...not ready to...die." A weak, pale hand grasped the lapel of Nicholas' coat in what seemed a last ditch effort to thwart the claws of death that were, with ever increasing urgency, dragging Tony down. "I... will...see you...again."

With that, a final gasp signified the end of Antonio Caproni's existence.

Or so it had seemed at the time.

Nick hadn't taken the last words of his friend to heart. He had listened to a creature unwilling to let go of life, a being who, at his death, was drawing comfort from an unattainable fantasy. Nick hadn't believed for one instant that Antonio's words were based in reality. He'd watched the Italian's body turn to ash in the morning sun and had thought that would be the end to another short chapter in his existence. He'd thought.

As the memory consumed him, Nick's absorbed gaze had fallen to the fire that burned brightly in the hearth. Coming back to himself, he blinked, breaking the mesmerizing draw of the animated flames. The movement of Fisher's hand caught his attention as he raised his eyes, the steady, methodical rotation of the coin across the long, pale fingers acting as a grim reminder of the improbable edification that had just been bestowed upon him.

Inching his sights higher still, he confronted the contented pewter stare of the fledgling. Amusement still tarried in the gray eyes, but a determination had also taken up residence. As if he were resolved to make his guest understand completely what had taken place. Sliding the coin back in his pocket, Andrew took a step toward Nick, his tone tinged with the same determination that shone in his eyes. "His body died that day, Nicholas. The flesh in which he'd been born, first as a mortal and then as a vampire, was destroyed, but not his essence, his being."

"His soul?" Again, Nick's voice didn't seem to be his own when he spoke.

"If you like." With a casual shrug, Fisher turned to retrieve his glass from the end table. "Although I was never one to believe in a vampire's retention of the soul after being brought across." He took a drink of the blood before continuing, his smoky eyes once again locked on Nick. "But if you don't believe in the loss of the soul, then you have to concede that it is changed, darkened, forever. The soul is altered. The body is altered. We are moved to a different plane of consciousness. Mortality can never be reclaimed. It dies, forever, as we are reborn into darkness. And through that rebirth, we gain tremendous strength. Strength of body, strength of mind, and strength of will."

"A will so strong that it allows for its survival even after physical death?" The incredulity still colored Nick's response.

"Is it really so hard to believe?" Andrew drained his glass. He looked up from the goblet, the hint of an impatient pout turning his mouth. "The will and the hunger live on, Nicholas. The need to sate the thirst drives us even after death. The hunger is our soul. It keeps us truly eternal. If one reservoir for our existence is destroyed, we find another."

"No." Nick emphatically shook his head. "I've seen several vampires die over my lifetime. I don't believe they're all out there somewhere living on through other bodies." Pausing, he took another step closer to Fisher in his need to convince both himself and the younger vampire that what he was saying was the truth. "They died. In every sense of the word, they died."

"Just like Antonio died?" The slow retort teetered on the edge of a familiar mockery.

Nick had moved far enough into the room that he'd come up against the back of a chair situated opposite from the one which Andrew had occupied moments ago. Placing his hands on it, he leaned forward slightly, again shaking his head. "Impossible. There's no history, not even a legend. If we were capable of what you're saying, there would be stories. We've existed for thousands of years. Knowledge of this would be out there by now."

"Would it?" With an unaffected ease that irritated Nick, Fisher stepped back over to the end table before turning to face his guest again. "We are relatively few, Nicholas. Our lives span centuries, millennia. Death among us is fairly rare, or at least, few and far between. And who's to say how long it takes for the transference, as I like to call it, to occur. Antonio's body was destroyed over 400 years ago. No. I don't think this ability necessarily has to be common knowledge."

The detective's head swam as he wrestled with the plausibility of the explanation. How often had his experience been repeated through the years? What was the likelihood of one vampire running into another who carried the soul of an old acquaintance? Not great, he guessed. And how vocal had vampires with Fisher's experience been over the centuries? Again, Nick supposed little had been said about the event because even LaCroix had never mentioned it, and Fisher couldn't be the first to have had this happen to him, surely. The obscurity of the occurrence could be possible. Hadn't Antonio, over 400 years ago, told him he would see Nick again, even as he lay dying? Had the Italian known?

As he contemplated the prospect, another question begged to be asked. "How?" A simple, one-syllable word that would, more then likely, open Nick's world up to one more belief-shattering jolt. "How can it happen?"

With another shrug, Andrew stared down into his empty cup. "I really can't say. I wish I could. I only know that as a mortal I had dreams...disturbing, haunting dreams. Dreams of a life long ago. A life of total freedom filled with a passion, a hunger, that was, completely and without reservation, indulged. Dreams of sweet, soothing blood." He raised his attention back to Nick, the wonder of the memory gleaming in his eyes. "Dreams of a vampire."

Nick stood both entranced and alarmed by what he was hearing, the words 'as a mortal' sticking in his mind.

A faint smile lightened Fisher's face when he continued. "And as the images became more frequent, I was compelled by a force I didn't understand to seek out creatures I didn't know existed. Once I'd found them, I was obliged to become one of them. I know now that Antonio's need to feel, in total, the experiences of his nature drove me to find my master. Only through another vampire could he be whole again. It was because of his influence that I became a vampire." The subtle smile grew into a bright grin. "I suppose you could say I have two masters."

Looking back into the fire, Nick struggled against what he was learning. This wasn't right. This wasn't possible. Yet he couldn't just dismiss it as a simple folly. He knew better. But the need to refute the disturbing descriptions kept pushing at him. "No."

Fisher raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "You deny what you feel, what you know deep inside you to be true?"

"I don't deny that what you tell me of yourself is true. It would be stupid to try. As you said, I can feel the truth of it. But, I do deny that this is a part of a vampire's nature. You have a narrow view, Andrew, a single experience. What happened to you is an exception, not a rule."

"Think what you will, Nicholas. You have no way of disproving what I believe. But...you do have proof," he pointed to himself, "that what I've told you does happen. How can you know for certain that it's as rare as you think? Why would you want to believe that it's an infrequent phenomenon? Don't you draw an exhilarating consolation from the knowledge that you are truly eternal, that even if this shell you reside in now is destroyed, you will find fulfillment in another?"

Consolation? How could he draw consolation from something that smashed his centuries-old belief and stole his ace in the hole? Something that informed him he would walk in darkness for eternity with no possibility of release, driven by a thirst he would never quench.

One thing in particular scared the hell out of him-Fisher's description of being pushed toward vampirism by Antonio's presence. Even after death, Tony's hunger had coerced a mortal into becoming a vampire. Even after death, a vampire could infect a mortal with his darkness. Far from comforting, Nick found this specific revelation appalling to the point of feeling a physical sickness churn in his stomach.

The rending of the velvet fabric beneath his hands captured Nick's troubled attention, the unconscious pressure with which he gripped the chair causing his fingertips to pop through the cloth. The odd tearing sound registered on his ears, and his eyes fell to the chair. The thick fabric had easily given way under his vampiric strength. Eight neat holes now marred the material as his fingers poked through the openings and pressed deeply into the cushion that lay underneath. It was when he heard the wooden frame of the chair start to crack in response to the pressure that he suddenly dropped his hands from the piece of furniture.

Looking up, he watched a touch of marvel, followed by a disapproving scowl, move across Fisher's face upon witnessing his handiwork. After a second or two, Andrew's eyes left the chair to focus on the Nick's face, the frown growing deeper. "What a pity, Nicholas. It would appear that you don't relish the revelation I've shared with you. As a matter of fact, it seems as though my confidence has had quite the opposite effect." He sat his empty glass on the end table. "But...how silly of me to forget. You're a vampire who doesn't want to be a vampire. Appreciating your nature, and the wonders it allows, isn't something you do, is it?" Sighing, he took his seat once again. With elbows resting on the arms of the chair, he steepled his fingers in front of him. His voice held a trace of condescension while he gazed down at the floor. "You have the fortune of age, Nicholas. How can you regret the strength you command? I dream of the day when I have gathered such power. Antonio has relayed to me the heady taste of the potent force that comes to a vampire with the passage of time. I look forward to experiencing that might."

An excited spark fired in Fisher's eyes, and as Nick watched the intensity of the anticipation grow, he was again faced with the considerable degree of Tony's influence over the fledgling. He wondered just how far the influence went. He thought of Antonio's preferred prey, and Tracy's missing children sprang to mind, his suspicion in that matter coming to the fore.

Nick stepped around the damaged chair and stood a few feet from Fisher, tension and concern tainting his expression. "Has Antonio relayed other tastes to you as well, Andrew?" Nick's voice challenged his host with his need to know more.

Fisher's eyes remained fixed on some unseen point on the floor. He sat hauntingly still, an unreadable mask guarding his features. The silence stretched for several, long seconds, the crackle of the wood in the fireplace seemingly magnified by the vivid quiet. For a moment, Nick wasn't sure if Andrew had heard his question. But he knew better. And when his patience had reached its end, he saw the preternatural stillness dissolve, a slow smile curving Fisher's lips. The gray eyes lifted to consider Nick once more, a sincere confusion peeking through the amusement. "Blood and power. Those are my tastes, Nicholas. What else is there?"

"What kind of blood?"

"Human, of course. There is no other kind." Fisher faltered, his uncertainty growing. "What are you getting at, Detective?"

"Children, Andrew. I'm getting at children. I want to know if you've acquired Antonio's taste for the blood of children." Nick's eyes narrowed as he searched the fledgling's face for a reaction.

Fisher's grin disappeared, the inquiry seemingly coming as truly unexpected. Straightening in the chair, he leaned forward, his brows knitted together in a frown. "Children? What do you mean...children? What are you accusing me of, Detective?"

"Oh come on, Fisher. If Antonio is as much a part of you as you say he is, then you know of his taste for young blood." Stalking a couple of steps forward, Nick stood towering over his seated host, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his long coat, a menacing glare shooting from his eyes. His voice was as threatening as his expression when he continued. "Are you accommodating that preference, Andrew? Are you quenching that insatiable thirst? Are you feeding off the blood of children?"

"I don't- No! No, of course not." Nick was forced to take a step backward as Fisher flew from the chair with the denial. Grabbing the goblet from the end table, the fledgling marched to the bar. Nick watched him refill the glass and noted the unsteady hand that poured the blood. He also registered the fear and confusion that distorted Fisher's otherwise flawless features. The reaction certainly wasn't that of an innocent. The easy aloofness had abruptly vanished.

"No? Do you expect me to believe that?"

After taking a long drink, Fisher refilled the glass before he spoke. "I...I don't care what you believe. Anyway, it's none of your business. What are you, an enforcer or something?" The bottle was returned to the refrigerator.

Nick's blue gaze captured the flustered gray of Andrew's, mistrust and irritation seeping through in his voice. "Your reaction doesn't give me much confidence. And no, as you well know, I'm not an enforcer. Why so jumpy?"

With apparent difficulty, Andrew broke the eye contact and took another gulp of the blood. As he lowered the glass from his lips, the uncertain confusion became more evident in his stilted manner. Slowly, he moved from behind the bar and walked back to stand in front of the fireplace, his sights once again caught by the dancing flames in the hearth. "I... I know about Antonio's preference for young blood. Like you said, how could I not?" A resolved calm all at once descended upon Fisher. It was as if he had, in that very instance, decided to make a cleansing confession. "The dreams I mentioned earlier were, and are, filled with lusty remembrances of such satisfying conquests. Conquests that Antonio has an intense desire to continue. Through me. Bottled blood isn't enough to completely appease him." His eyes darted from the fire to settle on Nick, a pleading will to be believed reflected in the dusky orbs. "But I've resisted." Pausing, he dropped his eyes back to the fire. "That is, I think I've resisted."

"You think?" Nick frowned at the doubt. "What do you mean, you think? How can you not know for sure?"

Fisher shook his head. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm missing time. Whole nights go unaccounted for. Some mornings I wake up totally fulfilled and content, but unable to remember what I've done the night before to feel such satisfaction. I can remember the night up to a certain point and then everything goes blank. In the beginning, not long after I was brought across, it happened very rarely. But through the years, the instances have slowly become more and more frequent. It's like my consciousness is taken from me, like Caproni takes me over so completely that I no longer exist. When it happens, I don't know what I do. I don't know what Caproni does."

Nick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This whole situation was becoming more unnerving than he'd ever imagined it could. All of his ludicrous speculations were being borne out, and with more accuracy than he would have liked. But, on top of that, he was discovering things even more disturbing than his original guesses. Fisher was now telling him that Caproni could indeed be indulging his twisted obsession, but without the young vampire's knowledge. Incredibly, Tony was apparently capable of somehow usurping Andrew's will and taking him over, leaving the other immortal with no command of his own body and no memory of his actions.

Impossible. It all sounded so absurdly impossible.

But when Nick opened his eyes again and looked back into the mystified face of Andrew Fisher, he knew that he was hearing the truth, or at least what Fisher believed to be the truth.

Sympathy for the fledgling bubbled up inside Nick as he saw the dismay reflected in Andrew's features. Stepping closer to Fisher, Nick placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I believe you, Andrew. As crazy as it sounds, I believe you."

"Thank you." Fisher's voice was thick with relief.

"He's taking children, Andrew. I'm almost sure of it. You've got to resist him. You've got to fight him." The urgency in Nick's voice was unmistakable.

Sighing heavily, Fisher looked down into the dark liquid in his glass. "I try, but he's so much more powerful than I am. I don't belong to myself anymore. I belong to him."

Nick abruptly snatched his hand from Andrew's shoulder, as if burned by the touch of a cross, the last word sending a chilling bolt of shock through him. It wasn't the word itself that took him by surprise, but the sickeningly familiar tone in which it was said. He could have sworn he heard the hint of an Italian accent flavoring Fisher's voice. And as he studied Andrew's face, he was amazed to see that the apprehension and fear were gone. As suddenly as they had appeared, the uncertainty and dread were replaced with a cool, easy arrogance. An arrogance that Nick had witnessed many years ago. The features did not belong to Antonio, but the air of casual indifference was without doubt Tony's. Nick was looking at a shell of Andrew Fisher. A shell now filled to overflowing with the essence of Antonio Caproni.

A twinkle of amusement flashed in Fisher's eyes as he took another drink. When he lowered the glass, he frowned down into it. "Tolerable. Nothing more than tolerable."

"Antonio." Nick felt the muscles throughout his entire body tighten as he spoke the confirmation.

The newcomer's gaze left the goblet to concentrate on his companion. Smiling, he nodded. "Yes. It's good to see you, old friend. I told you we'd meet again, didn't I?"

"But...how?" The disbelief brought on by the circumstance filtered through as Nick asked the simple question.

Caproni shrugged. "I'm not sure that I could explain it. Or that the explanation would make much sense. Besides, the 'how' is not important."

"Maybe not. But the 'what' is very important. You're indulging an old obsession aren't you, Tony?"

A soft chuckle left Antonio as he locked eyes with Nick. "The demon/archangel Nicholas, champion of the weak. I was right about you. A pity."

"Yes, you were right about me. But I don't find it something to be pitied." Antonio's description of him annoyed Nick greatly, but, in essence, it was accurate, although he thought 'archangel' was a bit of a stretch. As he continued, Nick's low, steady tone echoed with a threatening force that helped to declare his conviction. "The child disappearances will end, Tony. You _are_ feeding on the children."

"I am a vampire, Nicholas." Caproni took another drink. "But who's to say?" He raised the goblet slightly in an indication. "It has been a long time. Tastes can change."

"Not yours."

"Yes, well, some habits are hard to break. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm warning you, Antonio. If you don't put a stop to this, I will."

Caproni raised his eyebrows in feigned alarm. "Will you destroy Andrew as well? You will have to, you know. And in the end, it won't matter in the least. You will have killed him for nothing. I'll find refuge in another. We are eternal. I am eternal. You will never stop me, Nicholas."

The laughter started as a low chuckle deep in Antonio's throat. But as the seconds ticked by, Nick listened to the sound grow into a jeering, heart-felt thunder, the pure glee on Tony's face churning the detective's stomach. The laughter continued, and Nick's anger grew more intense with each passing moment until he felt something snap. Pulling his hands from the pockets of his coat, he grabbed Antonio by the shirt, his eyes red with fury. But still the hideous laughter continued. "You bastard."

Nick began to shake the cackling vampire, his seething anger driving him forward. He snarled through extended fangs as he berated Antonio once again. "You sick bastard."

All at once, like someone slamming a door, the laughter stopped. Nick froze. He looked on in silent amazement as Fisher's eyes dropped shut, and a blank, emotionless mask fell over his face. Then, as if waking from a nightmare, Andrew's eyes sprang open and darted around the room in what seemed to be an effort to get his bearings, the fear and confusion once again very evident in his movements. It was suddenly very clear to Nick that he was no longer dealing with Antonio. Fisher's essence had resurfaced.

"Knight?" The fledgling's distressed eyes dropped to the powerful hands that gripped his clothing.

Following Andrew's gaze, Nick realized he still had a tight hold on his host's shirt. A twinge of embarrassment pricked him as he released Fisher.

"He was here, wasn't he?" Brushing a shaky hand across his forehead, Andrew wiped away tiny beads of red sweat.

"Yes." The slow, quiet answer reminded Nick of a death knell. And in a way, that's what Antonio's appearance had signaled. Death. Death of a sacred belief. Death of a silent solace. The further death of a wavering hope.

As he went on, Nick's voice became filled with an almost pleading desperation in an attempt to try and fight the growing hopelessness. "You've got to keep fighting him, Andrew. Isn't there any way you can keep him at bay?"

"No! There isn't. I've tried. I've been trying since the day I realized what was happening. He's too strong."

"You can't give up." Andrew's defeat was contagious, and Nick felt it start to creep into his heart even as he tried to be encouraging.

"Yes, I can. It's no use. And I'm so tired. Tired of the struggle." Fisher held Nick's gaze with his own. "Do you know what it's like, Knight? Do you know what it's like to fight against something you have no chance of defeating? It can't be done forever."

Pulling his eyes away from Andrew, Nick allowed them to fall to the floor. There he spied the glass that Fisher had been drinking from only a few moments ago. In his earlier fury, he hadn't noticed when it had fallen to the ground. Now it lay on its side, the contents a dull, scarlet wound against the pristine gray of the carpet. Unconsciously, he nodded his head. Yes, he knew what it was like. The fragrance of the spilled human blood called to him. He knew all too well.

Without saying a word, Nick turned on his heel and walked to the door. Facing his host again, he spoke. "I have no wish to harm you, Andrew. I know Antonio's actions have nothing to do with your desires. But, if the children continue to disappear, I will put a stop to it. I must put a stop to it."

With that, Nick left the frightened fledgling staring after him.

End Chapter 13


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Natalie sat back on the couch and looked incredulously at Nick. She'd asked for it. Correction. She'd begged for it. And boy did she get it.

When Nick had returned to the precinct from his errand earlier that night, he'd been preoccupied, according to Tracy. God knew that in and of itself wasn't out of the ordinary. But the preoccupation had gone further than was usual, and Tracy had noticed it at once upon his return. After Nick had bitten her head off a couple of times, she'd sneaked off to call Natalie and ask her to try and find out what the trouble was. As Trace had said at the time, "Nick ain't gonna tell me anything, Nat. You've got a way with him. Maybe you can 'soothe the savage beast.' He wasn't bad until he came back from wherever it was he went. I tried to find out where he'd gone, but got put in my place for my trouble. I don't know what it is, but somethin's really got him bugged tonight."

'Somethin' was right. A real doozy of a somethin'.

After her talk with Tracy, Natalie just happened to pop into the precinct around the end of the shift. At first, Nick had refused to discuss his mood with her. Well, actually, the first thing he'd done was to deny that anything was wrong. It wasn't until after she'd told him he was full of it that he'd refused to discuss it with her. But she'd been determined. She hadn't been prepared to let him get away with it this time. Something deep inside warned her that whatever was bothering him tonight was something she needed to be a part of, and she couldn't leave it alone. His behavior was just more evidence of his slipping away from her, and she would fight it every step of the way, with all the strength she could muster.

Finally, after a few hard-boiled words about his back-sliding, he'd reluctantly agreed to talk to her. She knew she'd pushed awfully hard, but she couldn't let him retreat any further into himself. She breathed a sigh of relief when, instead of pushing back and telling her to get lost, he'd relented.

So here they were in Nick's loft. She'd just been told one of the most incredible things she'd ever heard. And that was saying a lot. Considering all of the incredible things she'd learned about vampires over the last six years. Beginning with the fact that they existed at all.

But possession of one vampire by the spirit of another vampire? This was a bit 'out there' even by normal vampire standards. Nat grinned to herself. _Normal vampire standards? Yeah, right._

"I told you you wouldn't believe it." Nick pulled himself from the black leather chair and stalked to the fireplace.

Natalie closed her eyes and took a frustrated breath. She knew she hadn't been able to keep the skepticism out of her expression and silently scolded herself for it. She'd finally gotten Nick to confide in her. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she didn't believe him. Because she did believe him. Her scientific mind may have balked for a moment. After all, it was in her nature, part of what she was. Even after all she'd witnessed over the last several years, her logical, rational view still tended to put up a fight whenever the illogical, irrational events of this vampire's existence interfered.

She'd never had any reason to doubt him, and this was no exception. Besides, no matter how incredible this particular story sounded, the concern and fear on Nick's face as he'd relayed the tale had been enough to reassure her of his sincerity. His encounter with Andrew Fisher/Antonio Caproni had done a number on his already unsteady composure. Natalie could see the doubt tightening its grip on him, and it scared her to death.

Rising from the couch, she joined Nick at the hearth. His back was to her as he studied the flames. She put a gentle hand on his arm and felt the muscles tense with the touch. The reaction did not deter her, however, and she continued the contact as she spoke. "Of course I believe it, Nick. I believe you." She paused, searching for an explanation for her reaction. "I'll admit it sounds more than a little fantastic, and it took me a minute, but I do believe you."

Sorrowful blue eyes turned in her direction, and Nat felt her heart lunge in her chest. She loved him so much, so very much. And with that love she wanted to soothe the unhappiness that bound him, to banish the doubt that she knew gnawed away at him. But it wasn't that easy. It was never that easy.

Nick covered her hand with his, the ghost of a sad smile lifting his mouth. "I know, Nat. I'm...sorry. I- I'm just- I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore."

"About what?" Natalie turned her hand in his, moved her fingers through his and gave a firm, encouraging squeeze.

She watched him look down at their joined hands and then close his eyes. She felt an answering pressure on her hand before he answered. "About a vampire's soul. About my chances."

"Chances?"

Opening his eyes, Nick gazed back into Natalie's face. "What if I've wasted my chances? I've gone to the light as a mortal and as a vampire. Both times I refused to accept it. What if I can't make it back?"

"Nick, what are you saying? Two strikes and you're out? You don't believe that, do you?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore. What if I don't want salvation enough to make it back to the light? What if the past year has resigned me to my fate enough to keep me from making it back to the light? What if my evil, my darkness, survives until it infects someone else?"

She didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. His questions made her nervous. The turmoil they revealed heightened her earlier fear. A fear that caused her patience to falter a little. "What if? What if? You can't go from day to day asking yourself what if, Nick. You do what you believe is right and let the 'what ifs' take care of themselves. That's all any of us, mortal or vampire, can do. Besides, you've made it to the light twice before. If and when the time comes, you'll make it back."

"I'm not so sure anymore." The solemn defeat in his voice all but drew a groan of pain from Natalie.

Her grip on his hand tightened. Further away. He was moving further away. She wouldn't let him go. She wouldn't. Her dread manifested itself in irritation when she responded. "This is ludicrous, Nick. You're talking as if death is some sort of an option. But it isn't, is it? I thought you'd made that decision already. The guide. Remember? You were going to live with the choice you made 800 years ago and go on with your life. You're going to obtain that salvation through life and the way you continue to live it. This isn't about death, Nick. It's about living."

"But if a vampire's darkness can't be destroyed even with his death, if his evil is that strong, what difference does it make? Life or death. Is salvation really possible? Why bother trying?"

Natalie felt her heart drop to her feet. But as her anxiety over what she was hearing grew, so too did her resentment of Nick's attitude. She wasn't going to let him get away with it. She couldn't let him get away with it.

Removing her hand from his, she took a step back, and looked him squarely and sternly in the eye. "There's evil in everyone, Nick, vampire and mortal. Vampires don't hold a monopoly on it. _You_ don't hold a monopoly on it. You know that as well as I do. We see it everyday. It's the reason you became a cop. Remember? To battle our evil and yours. You have to keep trying to regain your humanity because it will help you to control the evil. If no one worked to control that dark part that's in all of us, this world would be an impossible place to live. It's a battle we all fight, Nick. It's one that you can't give up on."

His eyes fell back to the fireplace as he shook his head. "I know I don't have a monopoly on evil, Nat. But how many mortals do you know who have 800 years to make up for?"

Just as Natalie opened her mouth to answer, the phone began to ring. She thought for a moment he was going to let the machine pick it up, but as it rang a second time, he turned, walked to the phone and lifted the receiver.

She concentrated on the flames in the fireplace as she listened to the one-sided conversation.

"Hello." Nick's tone sounded characteristically subdued, considering his and Nat's subject of conversation only seconds ago.

"Jacob, hi." With the acknowledgment, his attitude brightened somewhat.

"No, I haven't forgotten. Tomorrow evening at 6:30. I'm looking forward to it."

That's right. It had slipped her mind. Nick, Jacob and Elliot were going to Peter and the Wolf tomorrow evening.

"Yeah. I'll see you then."

"Oh, is he still there? Sure. Put him on."

"Hey, little man."

Natalie's mouth curved into a smile at the warmth she suddenly heard in Nick's voice.

"No, I can't wait either. Sure. It's okay with me if you bring it. It's yours now."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good day at school. Bye."

The next thing Nat heard was the sound of the receiver being put back in its cradle.

She left the fireplace and went into the kitchen where she pulled her coat from the back of a chair and put it on. She then moved to join Nick who still stood at the table behind the couch. A gentle touch of her hand on his arm garnered his attention. The faint shadow of a smile still danced around his mouth, and Natalie's spirits were lifted by the sight. "Eight hundred years is a long time, Nick. But I can't think of a better reason to keep trying to make it back to humanity than that little boy you just got finished talking to, can you?"

Leaning in and raising herself up on her toes, Nat placed tender, loving lips on his cool cheek. Just as she started to pull away, Nick caught her arms and pulled her closer, his mouth capturing hers in a more intimate embrace. The sudden move startled her for a second, but she quickly gave herself up to the caress, relishing the feel of his soft lips moving over hers. She answered his urgent demand and opened for his hungry invasion. It was heavenly. She didn't want it to end. But almost as unexpectedly as the kiss had begun, it did, unfortunately, end.

Nick lifted his head only enough to break the contact, his smoldering blue gaze burning into hers. Natalie's racing pulse fluttered slightly as he whispered, "I can think of one." Raising his head, he placed a light kiss on her forehead. With his lips still brushing her skin, he continued. "You're so much more than I deserve. Thank you, Natalie. Thank you."

The emotions that were whirling inside her at the moment stole Nat's voice. She could do nothing more than drop another quick kiss on his mouth, turn and walk into the elevator.

As Natalie left the loft a gnawing desire gripped Nick, mingled with regret and sadness. What he'd said to her was true. True and painful. He didn't deserve her friendship, her caring...her love. But he didn't know if he could function without them. He would be completely and utterly lost.

Absentmindedly, he touched two fingers to his lips. They were still warm from the kiss he'd been unable to stop himself from stealing. It had been a dangerous overindulgence, but at the same time, it hadn't been nearly enough. The brief taste left him hungry for more. His only comfort came from knowing that he'd been able to keep the beast in check, if only by the thinnest of tethers.

A soft groan altered the silence in the room before Nick walked to the refrigerator, his desire for Natalie causing the thirst to rise fast and hot. The choices were three. The protein drinks, however, didn't even enter into the equation. He looked at the bottles of cow's blood and then at LaCroix's offering. Nat's enticing scent still hung heavily in the air while the taste of her lingered on his lips. He reached for the gift.

As he pulled the cork from the bottle, his extraordinarily sharp canines pushed into his lower lip. He tasted his own blood in the same instant the human vintage flooded his mouth. He swallowed deeply of the nectar and felt a shudder of fulfillment slide over him as the blood washed down his throat. It wasn't Natalie. Thank God. But it was human. The feeling was exquisite. The effect was water to a man lost for days in the desert, his parched throat crying out its gratitude for the relief.

Several long drafts and the edge began to dull, the need momentarily numbed. The beast was placated for now, or at least, manageable.

Nick replaced the cork and shoved the bottle back inside the refrigerator. The appliance vibrated with the force used when the door slammed shut. "Damn!" The timbre of his voice rumbled through the loft.

Running a rough hand through his hair, he looked back at the elevator door, the anger and disgust contorting his features with a heavy scowl. Once again, he'd blown it. He'd weakened. He'd lost the skirmish.

He continued to stare at the door. Natalie had left the loft unscathed by his inner turmoil. Well, she'd departed physically unharmed by his internal conflict. However, he knew she was concerned and frightened by his recent confessions of doubt, and tonight's story would only add to the emotional strain he was certain she felt. But as violently as his desire and hunger for her had overtaken him, he'd been able to control it. He hadn't taken her, hurt her. Surely that wasn't a loss?

But the blood. The human blood. He'd had a choice and he'd chosen wrong. That was a loss, a defeat. The beast cried out and he listened, relented, indulged. Even after telling Nat that she was a reason to keep fighting, he'd faltered, making his words seem shallow and meaningless.

He pulled himself up the stairs to his bedroom. The words did have meaning. They weren't just some convenient, trite syllables uttered in order to make an impression. Natalie was what he wanted, what he craved. She touched him in a way unlike any being, mortal or vampire, had ever done before. She meant more to him than he could possibly put into words. She was worth any sacrifice, any fight.

_How long will you fight for something that you know you can never win?_ The inner voice taunted once again. _Do you feel the fatigue of futility starting to set in? The battle can be maintained only when there is a belief that victory is possible. Your mortality is gone. This dream of regaining it is just that, a dream, a pathetic folly. And without that mortality, a life with Natalie is also nothing more than a dream. How long are you going to live in a dream world? When are you going to wake up and face reality? A reality that doesn't include happily-ever-afters with mortals._

Nick pushed open the door to his room and flung himself on the bed. Turning over on his back, he rested an arm across his weary eyes. The paralyzing voice of doubt pounded in his head. Mortality. It was a speck of light somewhere far off in the distance. And no matter how hard he struggled toward it, it remained just as distant. Only nowadays, that speck of light was harder to see. And sometimes, he lost sight of it all together.

If mortality was an unattainable dream, was redemption also beyond his reach? He'd died twice and passed up the opportunity both times in order to return and live as a vampire. Could a vampire obtain redemption through life? The only time it had been offered to him was at his death. But now, after what he'd learned of the fate of Antonio's soul, even the redeeming light at death was no longer a certainty. If he were to die, would he make it back to the light? Or would he infect someone else with his bloodthirsty nature?

He lowered his arm to his side and looked up at the ceiling, his vampire eyes taking in every little crack and crevice in the darkened room. As he scanned the surface, he was momentarily distracted by the diligent work of a spider. It was busy making a new home for itself in a corner next to the door, its legs and mouth moving in purposeful fury as it spun the silk. The tiny creature was intent on its task, making its own little place in the world.

Its place in the world. What was a vampire's place in this world?

_With his own kind, perhaps?_ The insolent voice shot back.

Rolling over on his side, Nick drew his knees to his chest. God, he was tired. But it was much more than an exhaustion of the body. It was a weariness of the mind, of the spirit. It was the drain of more than one hundred years starting to settle over him. A slow siphoning off of faith as defeat piled upon defeat. The recent loss of a long-held belief, and the discovery of a heart-wrenching possibility. Everything was having its effect.

Nick closed his eyes. He could see the speck of light, barely. Concentrating on it, he willed it to become brighter. Natalie and Elliot were standing somewhere in the light, he knew, but he couldn't see them. As he continued to search for them, the light began to grow dim. The harder he concentrated on it, the dimmer it got until he could no longer see it.

_Let it go, Nicholas. You no longer belong to the light. You belong to me._

Nick's eyes sprang open as he felt his master's words move over their link. _The light is not within your reach, and never will be. Embrace what is within your power-your nature. It is your only true reality._

Tossing himself on his back once again, Nick slowly sighed his anguish. Again, his eyes fell closed. He tried to see the light, but to no avail. It was gone. He looked back to the corner over the door. The spider was still busily weaving its web, its home.

Home. He thought he'd made a home for himself here. His job. His friends. He'd grown close to everything about this most recent persona he'd created, the life of Nicholas Knight. When the time came, would he be able to leave it behind, move on? He'd come close not long ago, when his partner had been killed, but even as he had prepared to leave, he'd found the prospect almost unbearable. And in the end, when he'd decided to stay and face the tragedies of this life, he'd come to realize that staying had been the right thing to do after all.

Home. 'Home is where the heart is.' The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the saying. His heart was with Natalie. But... The smile disappeared. His reality was with LaCroix, harsh and unrelenting though it was.

And his life in Toronto? His life in Toronto was a 'plaything' according to Janette. But it was a 'plaything' he chose to take to heart. He remembered their words at the time.

"And what if we take these lives seriously?" he'd asked.

"Then we get hurt, Nichola. You know that. We get hurt." The solemn, almost pitying, look Janette had given him stung, as did her reply, the truth of it something he was not willing to acknowledge.

He did take this life seriously. And as before, in other lives, the involvement had caused him pain, the reality of what he was making any kind of normalcy impossible. He could get close to the mortals around him, but not too close. Not close enough.

"Nat," he whispered her name as he rolled on his side again.

His reality, the vampire, could not be overshadowed by the illusion he lived everyday. And his attempts to make that illusion his reality had all been failures, causing him more pain and disappointment.

And Natalie? What about the pain he had caused her over the years? His search for a cure was not only a disappointment for him. Nat's generosity and caring had led her down this never-ending, discouraging path as well. His pain and frustration were her pain and frustration.

He loved her. He had no wish to harm her. Walking out of her life forever seemed to be the only way he could stop hurting her as his belief in a cure continued to fade. But leaving would hurt her too. He recalled her wounded expression and bitter words the day she came to the loft after Schanke's death. The betrayal she felt had been a palpable thing between them. He didn't want to have to face it again.

But if he got out of her life, the grief over his leaving would lessen with time. She would move on, find a mortal man, have a normal life. She deserved a normal life.

_This life is a thin illusion. The promise of mortality is a ridiculous lie. The light of redemption is a dimming mirage. You are a vampire. Accept it and set your tortured mind free._

Nick's eyes opened as his father's thoughts intruded again. "No." He whispered the response out loud while pushing back across the connection. Even as the doubt grew and the questions plagued him, he was not ready to give in to the call of his nature and his master.

_A vampire. You are a vampire. _

The statement echoed in his head. A vampire. A creature that lived forever. And tonight his belief in the eternity that stretched before him took on a whole new meaning and unwanted strength. He had seen this night that even death didn't mean the end for a vampire. Antonio had lived on somehow. He'd continued to exist and been able to infect a mortal with the disease of his soul. Nick could not allow that to happen. He could not allow his evil to soil the innocence of someone else. But that meant continued existence. And if mortality was impossible, it meant continued existence as a vampire. If release was not possible through either death or life, why maintain the struggle? Why not end the torment and live as he had chosen to live 800 years ago?

_Why, indeed?_

Nick's eyes slid shut as the exhaustion crept over him, the question running through his mind until the settling darkness took his thoughts.

LaCroix stared up at the ceiling for a moment before allowing his eyes to close. The triumphant smile that curved his lips revealed his jovial frame of mind.

Closer. He could feel his son moving closer. The knowledge brought with it a feeling paralleled by nothing he had experienced in almost 800 years. He was almost giddy from the anticipation. Oh, the boy was stubborn, and he would have to be patient. But, the boy was also exhausted and discouraged...and a little frightened too, by what he'd discovered tonight. As far as LaCroix could see, it was only a matter of time. Nicholas was questioning everything about his search for mortality, and the answers he was coming up with weren't very heartening.

Time. The smile grew wider. It would take nothing more than a little time. And of course, he had all the time in the world.

End Chapter 14


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Excited children were everywhere, but none were more enthused than the little boy who held his hand. Nick glanced down at Elliot, who had hold of both his hand and his father's, the flute providing a small, awkward barrier between Elliot and Jacob's contact.

Just as he'd told Nick he would, Elliot had brought the birthday gift with him to the concert. All through the performance, well, at least during Peter's parts, he'd pretended he was playing along with the rest of the orchestra. It had been a comically delightful sight. Nick was still a little amazed by the fact that the young, would-be musician hadn't let a renegade note or two slip out during the performance. But Elliot never did put the flute to his lips, so the possibility had been eliminated. Nick hadn't been privy to it, but if he knew Beth, he knew there had been a discussion on the matter of the flute and proper behavior before his arrival at the Simmons' home.

A grin played across Nick's mouth as he continued to look down on the small boy skipping beside him. He was glad he'd come. This morning when he'd gotten home from work, he'd given serious thought to calling Jacob and backing out of the excursion, the last 48 hours having further aggravated the ever-strengthening vortex of doubt that threatened to drag him under. Being out amongst mortals had been the last place he'd wanted to be.

He'd made it through his shift, and that had been about all he could face at the time. He'd wanted to retreat, to shut himself away. But as he'd held the telephone receiver in his hand, ready to make the call, Nat's encouragement broke through the blinding haze of depression and self-loathing. '...I can't think of a better reason to keep trying to make it back to humanity than that little boy you just got finished talking to, can you?'

That little boy's happy, smiling face had appeared before Nick. In that instant, he'd felt some of the fog of disenchantment lift. A reason to make it back to humanity. To watch Elliot grow up, have children of his own and pass the flute on to one of those children. To experience the joy of being a part of Elliot's life from now until...whenever. To eliminate the need for moving on, eliminate the vampire. To regain his mortality in order to allow for the possibility of remaining in Elliot's life.

Those thoughts had sparked a sudden determination in Nick. He'd made up his mind not to squander the time he and Elliot had together. Because in the back of his mind the drum of reality continued to beat softly, telling him that his time with Elliot was limited, repeating that there would eventually be a need to move on.

He'd replaced the receiver and gone to bed to rest up for the night's adventure.

And so now here he was, filing out of the university auditorium with his two friends after having spent a thoroughly enjoyable couple of hours listening to wonderful music. He really was glad he'd come, even as the temptations bustled around him. The siren calls of hundreds of heartbeats served as a particularly difficult distraction tonight, but for the most part, he was able to tune them out, or at least, turn them down. However, the melody of blood-scents that filled the air were harder to ignore. Choosing to overlook the half-empty bottle of human blood still in his refrigerator, he'd had his fill of cow's blood before leaving the loft, but it just didn't seem to be enough anymore.

"Boy, every kid in Toronto must be here tonight," Jacob observed as they made their way down the crowded hallway to the exit.

Nick pulled his attention from Elliot as he nodded. "Yeah, I didn't think there'd be this many people here. It's nice to see so many youngsters being exposed to good music."

"Mmmm." Jacob smiled his agreement. "I know what ya mean. Hopefully this experience will kindle a growing appreciation in these kids. It beats the heck out of a lot of the popular and rap music floating around out there nowadays."

They entered the outer lobby as Jacob finished his statement. And while they slowly traveled the width of the area toward the doors leading to the outside, Elliot joined the conversation. "Hey, Dad?" Nick looked down to see the young man pull on his father's hand. "Dad, what's ap...pre...c... What's ap...pre...ci...tion?"

"Appreci-a-tion." Jacob grinned at his son as he stopped in front of the exit door to consider the question. "Well, let's see. It means... I guess you could say it means to like something a lot."

Pushing the door open, the professor walked through and held it for Nick, Elliot and several other people who took advantage of his courtesy. Once there was a break in the stream of patrons, Jacob let go of the door, and the small group started to walk to the car.

As they moved to the stairs in front of the building, Elliot picked up the discussion where his father had left off. "I liked the music a lot. It was neat. I'm going to play in a band someday."

The proud father tousled Elliot's hair with a loving hand. "I just bet you are."

Nick was gratified when Elliot indicated the flute as he'd informed them of his plans to be in a band one day. If his gift helped to stimulate the boy's interest in music, then Nick couldn't be happier. He felt as though he'd accomplished something. Philip's wish for the instrument had finally been fulfilled.

When they reached the bottom step, Nick froze. A familiar sensation skirted through his body as he was alerted to the presence of another vampire somewhere very close. Raising his head a little higher, he scanned the area. The dual impression he was receiving could only belong to one vampire. His eyes searched for a familiar face in the field of profiles before him.

It took little more than a second or two for him to hone in on the interloper. Andrew stood on the edge of the parking lot. He wore only slacks and a sweater against the frigid night. The younger immortal's amused stare was locked on Nick, his mouth tilted in a defiant smirk. And as Nick recognized the confident bravado, he knew that the vampire he was looking at was not Andrew Fisher. Antonio was on the prowl again, a ravenous wolf hovering on the edge of a choice flock of tender sheep. An innocent group of hundreds of happy, healthy children, one of whom was Elliot.

"Nick? Nick, you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost." Jacob broke Nick's chain of thought when he placed a concerned hand on the detective's arm. "Hey? Nick? Are you all right?"

Forcing a smile, Nick finally looked at Jacob. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just- It-" He shook his head. "It was nothing."

"You're sure? It didn't look like nothing to me. You looked scared to death." The expression on Jacob's face conveyed his worry and his misgiving. He didn't believe a word of Nick's denial, but seemed willing to bypass any further questions. One eyebrow lifted in puzzled acceptance as he nodded. "Okay. If you're sure?"

"I'm sure, Jacob." The reassurance came as Nick turned his eyes back in Andrew's direction. The other vampire was gone. At least, that is, gone from sight. Nick could still feel Fisher's presence lurking somewhere near.

"Nick?" Elliot's small voice penetrated his momentary preoccupation with the unseen danger stalking the night. "Nick, you don't have to be scared. Me and Dad are here. You never have to be scared if you're not alone." He paused a moment before earnestly repeating, "You're not alone, Nick."

The simple, yet somehow profound, words of comfort grabbed Nick's heart and squeezed tight. His love for the young mortal had never been stronger than it was at this very moment in time. How did the saying go? 'Sometimes kids say the damnedest things.' Well, it couldn't be more true.

Gazing down into Elliot's angelic face, Nick saw an incredibly mature light of understanding shining there. It was almost as if this small, six-year-old boy recognized the feeling of isolation the vampire endured every day of his existence. But it wasn't possible for one so young to have such deep insight, was it? And yet...

Along with the comprehension in Elliot's eyes, Nick also glimpsed a stubborn determination, a serious need for the boy to ease his friend's fear. With a deep, satisfied sigh and a bright smile, the detective lifted Elliot in his arms and hugged him close. "I know, little man. I know." The loving whisper next to the child's ear was all the vampire could manage. The emotions stirring inside him robbed him of the ability to say more.

'You're not alone, Nick.' He held the youngster a little tighter, the words echoing in his head. 'You're not alone...' He relished the idea as he held the boy close. However, it didn't take long for the cynical voice of reality to throw in its two cents worth. It pecked away in response. _But aren't you? Aren't you more alone in the presence of mortals than at any other time? More isolated, more foreign? You need to be with your own kind._

_No._ Nick fought against the damnable voice yet again as it threatened his feeling of belonging.

"Well, we'd better get to the car. It's cold out here." Jacob patted Nick on the back, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "We can't have anyone catching their death in this frosty air."

Elliot pulled his arms from around Nick's neck and rested his hands on the detective's shoulders. Looking over at his father, he asked, "Can we go get ice cream, Dad? I'm hungry."

"Ice cream?" Jacob's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Ice cream? In this weather?" Nick watched with an amused eye as the professor's look of astonishment turned to mock horror before he continued. "Ah...Sport, I don't think ice cream is such a good idea."

Elliot's hopeful face fell.

"Why don't we make it hot chocolate? Maybe throw a cookie or two somewhere in there? Mom made some peanut butter cookies today, didn't she? How 'bout we raid the cookie jar when we get home?"

The dejection eased while Elliot considered his father's suggestion. "Hot chocolate. Peanut butter cookies." An approval slowly curved his mouth. "Okay."

"Okay," Jacob repeated, and the group resumed its walk to the car, Elliot hitching a ride in Nick's arms for the rest of the short journey.

When they got to the Caddy, Nick set Elliot back on his feet and reached in his pocket for the keys. The buzz of an extremely close vampire interrupted his movement. No more than a second later, a silky voice crawled up Nick's spine.

"Nicholas. Good evening." Andrew spoke from behind Nick.

Upon hearing him, the detective wheeled around to see Fisher standing next to Jacob, a mischievous sneer on his face while a dual-colored coin traveled across the back of his right hand.

The only acknowledgment Knight offered the new arrival was a forbidding scowl. This was dangerous, very dangerous. He wanted to scream at the other immortal. Tell him to get the hell away from his friends, that he had no business being here. Fisher's presence was an intrusion, a threat, Nick would not abide. He would kill Andrew where he stood without so much as a second thought before he would allow Antonio to harm Elliot.

Stifling a challenging growl, Nick willed his fangs back into hiding before he snapped back with a reply. "What do you want?"

"Nick?" A baffled grimace moved over Jacob's face as he quickly questioned the detective's demeanor.

The sound of his friend's troubled voice made Nick pause. He had to be careful. He had to keep himself in check, under control. This was not the place for a confrontation.

With great effort, Nick compelled the tension to leave his body. Pushing a taut smile to his lips, he tried to smooth out the awkward movement. "I apologize, Andrew. You startled me. Good evening."

"That's quite all right, Nicholas. I understand." The glint in Caproni's eye was a silent chuckle at Nick's insincere attempt at civility. "The concert was delightful. I trust you enjoyed it as well?"

"Yes. Very much," Nick agreed with the falsehood. While the performance had been going on, the other vampire had not been in the auditorium, or anywhere near it for that matter. If he had, Nick would have felt him before now. But, again, this was not the time or place for a dispute between the two immortals.

"Well, Nicholas, aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" Fisher looked from Jacob to Elliot.

"I don't-" Nick curbed the caustic words before they brought more curiosity from Jacob. "Of course. Andrew Fisher, these are my good friends Jacob Simmons and his son Elliot." The emphasis on 'good friends' was a disguised warning to Antonio. And from the uneasy look Nick received, the warning was understood.

"A pleasure, Jacob." Tony slid the coin back into a pocket and held out his hand to the professor who shook it with enthusiasm.

"Here, too." A naughty grin materialized on Jacob's face as he released Antonio's hand. "So, you're a friend of Nick's. This is a treat. I haven't met too many of them since I've known him. How long have you two been acquainted?"

"Oh, we go way back." The Italian offered. "My... How long has it been, Nicholas?"

The little game Antonio was playing was growing very thin very quickly for Nick, and it took all the strength he had not to tell him to shut the hell up. And although the sharp retort was never voiced, the frown on Nick's face could not be suppressed. "I'm not sure. Maybe a bit too long." The last remark was out before he could stop it, and Jacob shot him another puzzled look. Nick chose to ignore it.

"Yes, well..." The awkward moment lasted only a second before Tony let the statement pass and his eyes fell to Elliot. "And you are Elliot."

Nick's jaw tightened in reaction to Caproni's attention to the boy, but he stayed silent. It was all he could do not to step between the other vampire and the young mortal, the desire to protect Elliot from this personable danger surging forward.

"Uh huh." The child cheerfully nodded, apparently pleased with the recognition from the stranger.

"My, you are a happy little boy," Andrew observed. "Tell me, Master Simmons, did you enjoy tonight's music?"

Another alarm went off in Nick's head upon hearing Antonio's reference to Elliot's good-natured disposition. He had to put an end to this encounter, and he had to do it soon.

"Yeah, it was cool. I'm going to play someday. Nick gave me this great flute to practice with." Elliot presented the instrument for the newcomer to see.

"Ahh." Tony's eyebrows lifted in inquisitive delight. "A beautiful piece. May I see it?" He reached for the flute.

"No!" The denial shot from Nick in the same instant he took a menacing step forward. The response came from his heart, not his head. He knew the action would draw more curiosity and disapproval from Jacob, but he didn't care. He would not, could not, allow Antonio to touch the flute. It would be a sickening violation, an intolerable transgression.

The Italian's hand stopped in mid-air. Turning his eyes back toward Nick, he cast the detective an angry frown.

"Nick?" Jacob again questioned his friend's behavior, but this time with a little more fervor. "What's the matter? I don't understand. Surely there's no harm in him looking at the flute."

_Yes, there is...great harm._ Nick silently contradicted the professor. Jacob just didn't understand. But he had no way of understanding that Antonio would soil the gift of love Nick had given Elliot. The belief was, perhaps, irrational, but he couldn't disregard the foreboding omen the contact represented to him.

"It's okay, Nick. I don't mind."

Elliot's assurance halted Nick's unpleasant thoughts. His focus was drawn to the trusting, happy face of the small mortal. Instead of calming the vampire's concerns, the innocent, defenseless expression heightened Nick's desire to guard Elliot from the danger that hovered so frighteningly close.

"It's cold." The detective's tone was as severe as the temperature he commented on. He scowled back at Caproni. "We need to get Elliot home, Andrew. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, Nicholas. I understand completely." A knowing half-smile pulled at a corner of Antonio's mouth as he turned back to the professor. "It was a real pleasure to meet you." He then looked at Elliot. "And you, young man. It was a pleasure meeting you too. Good luck with your playing. I'm sure you'll do very well."

Elliot's eyes brightened with the confidence shown him. "Thanks."

"And Nicholas..." Challenging gray collided with threatening blue. "Take care, my friend." A hand disappeared into a pant's pocket and re-appeared with a tooney. The coin's journey started immediately. "I'll see you again...sometime."

The statement reinforced the feeling of dread that had gripped Nick from the second Tony's presence intruded on the evening. A dread that was pushed almost to the point of panic with the contact between Antonio and Elliot. And as he heard the promise of another meeting, Nick felt the need to reissue his subtle warning. "Perhaps. But I hope that I won't have a reason to seek you out, Andrew."

Again, it was clear the insinuation was not lost on Fisher, but he said nothing more. He merely bowed his head in a gesture of good-bye, turned and walked away, the coin still traveling across his hand.

"What was all that about, Nick? I've never seen you act like that. Are you two enemies or something?" Jacob pounced as soon as Fisher disappeared around a corner.

"Or something." Shaking his head, Nick tried to assuage his friend's concern. "Please, Jacob. I don't want to talk about it. Andrew and I were friends a long time ago, but went our separate ways. That's about all there is to it." Nick slid the key in the car door and unlocked it. He hoped his answer would satisfy Jacob, because he wasn't about to tell him anything else.

"Hmmm. I somehow doubt that. But I won't push. It wouldn't do me any good anyway. But, if you need to talk, I'm here. You know that."

"Yeah, I know that. Thanks, Jacob." Nick faced his friend again and smiled. "Now...didn't you say something about cookies and hot chocolate?" The vampire quickly changed the subject.

"Yeah!" Elliot enthusiastically answered for his father. "I'm hungry."

"Okay, okay. Let's hit the road." The professor took his son's hand and walked around to the other side of the car while Nick climbed in to unlock the two doors.

By the time they got back to the house, Elizabeth had made it back from the baby shower. While Elliot ate his snack, the group reviewed the events of the evening. Fisher's visit, however, was never mentioned. The oversight was a conscious decision for Nick, and he was sure the same was true for Jacob. Nick was grateful for his friend's discretion.

After Elliot said his good-nights and went to bed, Nick stayed only a few minutes more before taking his leave of the family. He made the pretense of getting into his car and driving away, but once out of sight, he stashed the Caddy in a near-by alley.

Flying back to the Simmons' home, he set up watch outside Elliot's bedroom window. He took a seat on one of two swings on the swing set in the backyard. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his senses and felt for any other vampire presence. He encountered none, and some of the tension slipped from his body.

Gazing up at Elliot's darkened window, he overheard Jacob and Beth's conversation as they tidied up the kitchen. The subject of their son's ever-increasing shoe size had come up, and they discussed the need to get him a new pair of gym shoes.

Nick couldn't help but smile at the normal, seemingly trivial, concerns of his friends. Shoes for Elliot. Such a simple, uncomplicated, easily-solved dilemma. An insignificant speck of a problem compared to what loomed out there somewhere in the consuming night.

Elliot's life was at risk, Nick was certain of it. After tonight, there could be little doubt. Even while his warnings seemed to be understood by Antonio, he still got the impression that they might not have been taken to heart. When Tony set his sights on a prize, there wasn't much that was going to keep him from it.

"Damn!" Nick swore under his breath. His hesitation had been a mistake, a feeble blunder. He should have killed Andrew when he had the chance. It might not have destroyed Tony, but it would have kept him out of circulation for a long while and away from Elliot and the other children of Toronto.

_Damn!_ He cursed again. When he'd left him that evening, he knew the boy wouldn't have the strength to fight Antonio, yet he'd let him live. And in doing so, he'd allowed for the possibility of the killing to continue. Now, the consequence of his leniency rose up before him, dark and menacing. It threatened someone he loved. His merciful decision now jeopardized Elliot's life.

After a few more minutes of silently berating his failure to act, Nick was momentarily distracted by the tender sounds of love coming from the house. Jacob and Elizabeth had gone to bed, and the whispered moans of pleasure and passion now sang in Nick's ears as the two mortals made love.

Embarrassment and guilt were the first things he felt, both for his unintended eavesdropping. But the gentle noises of desire quickly sparked a need. A need that conjured up an enticing image of Natalie, soft and giving. She was so beautiful, warm and loving; so sweet, innocent and trusting. His unexpected fantasy abruptly ended, the foreboding haze of an earlier dream falling over the inviting vision. Trusting, Natalie. Trust.

Nick's eyes sprang open. Bolting from the swing, he started a slow pace back and forth in front of the swing set while he forced his fangs out of sight. He knew his eyes had changed too, and he fought to cool the unnatural glow as he thrust the picture of Natalie, and the sounds of love, from his mind.

Stopping, he slowly shook his head. Trusting, Natalie. He feared he would betray that trust one day. He could not bear the thought. But the beast and its desires were things that threatened greatly the faith that Nat so innocently placed in him. He hoped beyond hope that he could continue to be worthy of her confidence even as he knew that worth had diminished considerably over the last several months. The beast's pull was becoming more and more difficult to resist. But...he had to resist.

No matter how much he wanted her, he could not, would never, take her in that way. And at this point in his existence, he didn't think having her any other way was possible. The glorious pinnacle reached through sharing one's body with another couldn't be realized without the intrusion of the bloodlust and the hunger for total possession, body and soul. And although Nat's body would be a thoroughly luscious possession, taking her blood would be infinitely more fulfilling. But he could never allow himself that dark, damning pleasure.

With a heavy, frustrated sigh, he seated himself back in the swing and tried to concentrate on the reason he was here-Elliot's safety. What would he do to keep the boy out of harm's way? Closing his eyes again, he reluctantly acknowledged what he knew he had to do. Destroying Andrew was the only way of insuring Elliot's protection, and the protection of the rest of the children in the city. Tomorrow night. He would find Fisher tomorrow night and put an end to the threat, stifle the sick obsession. He had no other choice.

The house was quiet now, all the occupants lost in blissful sleep.

The remaining hours of the morning crawled by, his thoughts weaving between Natalie, Elliot and Fisher. Or, not so much Andrew, but Antonio. Nick knew the Italian was on the prowl, and for that very reason he refused to leave the family unguarded. The fact that Tony was more than likely out there somewhere ending another young life pounded at Nick's conscience, but he would not take the chance of leaving Elliot open to that same fate should he be unable to find Andrew in time. He could not take that risk. So he stayed.

When he felt the first stirrings of the sun, Nick heard Jacob wake. The vampire remained close to the house, yet out of sight, until the morning's rays were almost too close for comfort. Assured that Andrew would not venture out before nightfall, Nick left his vigil and returned to the loft. Sleep was an occasional diversion as he waited to complete the unwanted task that towered before him.

End Chapter 15


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The sun hovered just beneath the horizon on its journey back into hiding, its disappearance allowing for another vale of black stillness to blanket the earth. The vampire stood across the street in front of the Simmons' home listening to the cheerful chatter as they prepared for dinner. He'd wanted to check on the family before starting his search for the being who would seek to end their happiness.

The somber frown carved on his face conveyed the feelings that burdened his heart. Another child had gone missing last night, and if not for his weakness, it never would have happened. In between the rare minutes of sleep Nick had tried to get through the day, he'd called the taskforce that had been set up to investigate the disappearing children. He was informed that a little girl had vanished from her bed the previous night. Sleep had deserted him entirely upon hearing the news, second guesses and self-recriminations taking up the rest of the daylight hours.

As soon as the light had retreated enough for him to tolerate, he'd left the loft and come here. He'd booked off work, taking a personal day, in his preparation to confront Andrew Fisher. He expected to find the fledgling tonight and put an end to the sequence of misery that Fisher unwillingly spread. And although Nick believed the young immortal's death was the only way to insure the well-being of the children of Toronto, he still felt a twinge of shame, a modicum of hesitation, over the prospect of killing an innocent in order to get rid of the guilty.

But... Nick's scowl deepened as he challenged his choice of description. Innocent? Was Andrew innocent? He was a vampire after all. Could a vampire be innocent? No. Vampires were evil incarnate. There could be no innocence in evil. However, in this case, he had to concede that the circumstance of Fisher's guilt was not enough to make Nick comfortable about having to terminate the youngster's existence.

A bitter sneer tightened Nick's lips as a cruel conjecture sprang to mind. If Andrew really believed in the true immortality of the vampire soul, his death in this life wouldn't be an end, but the opportunity for a fresh beginning.

The sneer faded while another thought occurred to Nick. Would there also be an opportunity for future revenge? Would Fisher return years from now seeking to avenge his death? Would Antonio?

A slammed car door two houses away halted the bothersome contemplation, and Nick dismissed the questions. Even if it were possible, it didn't matter. Elliot's safety was the only real concern at this point in time.

Focusing his attention back on the house, he realized that the family was seated at the kitchen table and had begun to eat their meal. He started walking down the street, and when he found a spot out of sight, he took to the air. Andrew's condo was his first destination.

As he flew, Nick thought again about what he'd learned from his phone call earlier in the day. Antonio had indulged his obsession last night. There could be little doubt the Italian was responsible for the newest addition to the list of missing children. And if he delved further into the girl's whereabouts within the last 24 hours, Nick was certain he would discover that she'd been at the concert last evening. The guilt had been eating away at him since he'd learned of the girl's disappearance. He could have prevented it. But, he sadly admitted, her horrific sacrifice had, perhaps, bought him a little time to find Fisher and destroy him before the young vampire was pushed toward Elliot.

There was a pattern to Antonio's obsession. The disappearances started a little over a month ago. There were now five unsolved cases all with the same MO, and they occurred about every five or six days. And not a single trace of any of the children had been found. If Tony stuck to this timetable, Nick should be able to end this before any more innocent mortals died.

He would look for Andrew tonight until it was Elliot's bedtime. Nick felt certain that as long as the boy was awake and with his parents he would be safe. If Nick couldn't find Fisher before nine o'clock, he would go back to the home and watch again tonight. He couldn't take the chance that Antonio might change his habit and decide to take another child before his normal time.

But Nick was hopeful that a watch tonight would not be necessary. Finding Fisher shouldn't be too difficult a proposition. The younger immortal wouldn't have remembered what had happened last evening and would have no reason to think Nick wanted to see him. The loss of another night, however, might panic the fledgling, now that he knew for sure what the missing time meant. Also, Nick's threat of several days ago could possibly go a long way toward spooking Andrew. And rightly so, Nick had to admit.

Landing in the same spot he had the first time he'd visited Fisher, Nick stood silently and scanned for the young vampire's unusual aura. Nothing. He walked around the bushes and up to the door of number two. Still no sign of Andrew. The lock gave way easily under his superior strength and he entered the condo. All was dark and still.

"Damn!" Nick's frustration came to the surface. He knew finding Fisher at home would be too easy.

He left the apartment and headed for the Raven.

When he entered the club, the music was loud, but the level of activity normal for the nightclub had not begun to reach its expected heights. It was early yet. And, unlike his last visit, what patrons there were in the place were human. It was a little too soon for most of the preternatural population to make an appearance, but Nick hoped he would find Fisher here nevertheless. Although, his expectation quickly grew faint as he was unable to sense the object of his search.

Making his way to the bar, he ignored the female hands that greedily reached out to him, not once but twice, in separate invitations to dance. He took a seat at the end of the counter and surveyed the dance floor. His hunt then concentrated first on the tables and next on the darkened corners of the room. Not surprisingly, he saw no trace of the fledgling anywhere. He would take a look in the back rooms, but he already knew he would come up empty handed.

"Nicholas." LaCroix spoke from behind Nick's shoulder. "What a pleasant surprise. Twice in one week. You're starting to make yourself right at home, aren't you?"

The sarcasm in his master's voice was mixed with a genuine pleasure that Nick felt across their link. The wash of delight was, in an odd way, comforting, and some of the anxious disappointment left the protege as he turned concerned eyes to his maker. "Not quite home, LaCroix."

"Not yet." Lucien continued to tease.

But as Nick looked into the blue stare of his sire, he sensed the response was not said entirely in jest. There was a resolution in the cool depths that conveyed a clear belief in Nick's return to his family, his father.

_Soon, Nicholas. Soon._

The silent impressions embedded themselves in Nick's head with such passionate force that it took him aback for a moment. He dropped his eyes from the intense gaze of the elder immortal and centered his sights on the ever-familiar silver sword pin on the Roman's collar.

LaCroix's powerful declaration was followed by a bittersweet flow of love and longing down the thread that would forever bind them together. The unexpected barrage almost swept Nick away. After his long, sleepless day of guilt driven self-loathing, he would have found it easy to lose himself in the tender feelings; to forget everything and submerge himself in his father's offered consolation. As it was, he let himself bathe in the sensation only a moment or two before pulling back. The much-needed solace was an agonizing luxury he could not allow himself to enjoy. The mesmerizing draw of his father's comfort was a further incitement away from his quest.

Nick closed his eyes against the tender assault on his weary mind. He flinched inwardly as a cynical barb from the inner voice found its way into his conscious. _Quest? Your quest is all but forgotten. You play at the search, but do you really want to find the prize? Or are you willing to hold tightly to the gifts you already hold in your hands? Your immortality. Your family. Your father. Accept the compassion. Wrap yourself securely in its embrace. It would be so easy to let it cradle you-so very easy._

_You will come back to me, my son._

Nick knew that LaCroix had never abandoned the hope that he would one day return to him, to live as a vampire freely and willingly by his father's side. But the protege continued to reject that possibility even as he began to appreciate his growing closeness to his master.

Looking back into LaCroix's face, Nick's sad frown deepened as he slowly moved his head from side to side. _I can't, Lucien. I won't._

"You can and will, Nicholas. You can and will." Without waiting for a response, LaCroix motioned for a glass and abruptly changed the subject. "You're hovering here for a reason I suspect. Looking for someone again, Detective?"

Their sparring match was apparently finished for the evening and Nick was relieved, glad that his weakening resolve had not completely deserted him. A faint smile touched his mouth. The feeling of warmth, however, had not dissipated, and it continued to drape about him like a well-worn coat. And for that, he was also glad.

He moved his eyes back to the dance floor. LaCroix's question had once again set his task before him, and the grave feeling it instilled echoed in his voice. "Yes, I'm looking. I'm looking for Andrew Fisher."

"Andrew?" The club's owner took a seat on the stool next to his creation.

"I was right, LaCroix. About everything. Andrew. Antonio. The missing children. Everything. I have to find Fisher and stop him." Nick's solemn tone was flecked with a renewed urgency.

"Antonio is indeed quenching his thirst for children through Andrew?" The Roman's eyebrows rose slightly with the question as if he were a little surprised by the confirmation of what, up until now, had been merely speculation.

"Yes." Nick's eye fell back to the bar, his voice precious more than a whisper. "He's killing children and I've got to stop him."

"Stop him? You mean destroy him."

Nick's gaze shot from the counter to again confront his master's crystalline glare. He saw the same condemnation there that he heard in the ancient vampire's voice. He was seeking to destroy a vampire in order to spare mortal lives. Somehow, Nick knew, that did not sit well with his maker. Unless they were a danger to the community there was no reason to prey on one's own kind. And if a vampire was fastidious when he killed and not suspected, then he was not a danger to the community.

But whether he was a threat for discovery or not made no difference to Nick. Andrew was killing young mortals and Nick would see an end to it. "Yes." He barked back at the Roman. "I mean to destroy him. He's taking children...children, LaCroix. I have no choice but to destroy him."

Nick watched as the edge of his master's disapproval dulled. It appeared as though his point about the child victims had not fallen on totally deaf ears. It didn't come as a surprise to Nick either. He knew his father couldn't approve of this particular brand of killing.

"Yes...well..." LaCroix's eyes left Nick as his drink arrived. "I suppose you do have a point."

"Thank you." The begrudging response left Nick as he stood.

The glass of blood-wine was placed in front of LaCroix, and Nick fought against the dull ache it encouraged. But, because of his earlier indiscretion at the loft, the painful need was not as intense as it might have been.

He looked on with a subdued craving while LaCroix took a drink, waiting for the elder to finish before he spoke. "Andrew isn't here and he isn't at his condo. I don't have any idea where else he might hang out. Do you know of any of his friends around here who might be able to give me some idea where he could be?"

LaCroix shrugged, his eyes once again concentrating on Nick. "I don't know, Nicholas." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Although...yes, I do believe I've seen him with-"

The beckoning ring of Nick's cell phone interrupted LaCroix, who sneered at the inconvenience.

"Sorry." Nick apologized before pulling the phone out and taking the call. "Knight."

"Nick?" The tentative voice on the other end belonged to Jacob, and Nick felt a paralyzing fear start to grow in the pit of his stomach as he read the bewildered terror in the mortal's tone.

"Jacob? What's wrong?"

"It's Elliot, Nick." Jacob paused as a dreadful sob caught in his throat. "He's gone...missing. We can't find him anywhere. We've been looking for over half an hour. We've been to both neighbors' houses, up and down the street... There's just no sign of him. I know it's too early to call the police. I don't know what to do."

Nick's fear was well on its way to becoming full-blown panic as he listened to his friend and struggled to understand what could have happened. "But he's been with you tonight, hasn't he?" Nick looked at his watch, 8:30. "He hadn't gone to bed yet, had he?"

"No. Well...after dinner he wanted to go up to his room to practice his flute. He was there for a short while when I noticed I didn't hear him playing anymore. I looked in his room and he was gone." There was another stifled sob before he continued in an almost hysterical voice. "Oh God, Nick. I can't find him! I can't find him!"

_No! No! No! No!_ The word flashed over and over in Nick's mind as he fought to reject what he already knew had happened to Elliot. What he'd let happen to Elliot. He couldn't think. _Elliot! What have I done? Elliot!_

It wasn't his master's supportive hand on his shoulder or the desperate plea in Jacob's voice as the mortal repeated his name, but the gentle sound of Beth's tears in the background of the call that slapped him across his common sense and pulled him from the shaky edge of hysteria. She cried out of fear for her missing son. She cried out of hopelessness for someone to help them. She and Jacob needed him. They needed his strength, his help. Not too much time had passed. Maybe he could get to Elliot before it was too late.

"Nick?" The distraught father implored in Nick's ear.

"I'm here, Jacob. I'm here. Look, I'm going to call a special unit in the department and send them out to the house. Tell them everything they want to know. I'm going to look for Elliot."

"But, where? Nick, I want to go with you."

"Jacob, listen to me. Stay with Beth and tell the officers everything you can. I'll talk to you soon." Pausing a second, Nick then added, "We'll find him, Jacob. We'll find him." He closed the phone and stuffed it in his pocket. His pained eyes settled on LaCroix. "Who, Lucien? You said you knew someone..."

"Yes, Nicholas. Urs. I've seen him with Urs on occasion. But she isn't here right now." The sympathy in the elder vampire's gaze was unmistakable. "This is not your fault, Nicholas."

"I should have killed Fisher when I had the chance. This is my fault, LaCroix." Nick angrily poked himself in the chest. "I'm the reason Antonio knew Elliot even existed. It is all, and only, my fault."

With that damning proclamation, Nick ran blindly from the club in a frantic search for his friend.

Sadly, he watched his son rush from the building, his distress over the boy a dark scowl etched across his brow. The anguish he sensed in Nicholas was all but debilitating, and he cursed every god he could think of for its stranglehold on his precious child. The self-loathing was excruciating. The worry was agonizing. And as the tumult of negative emotion cascaded over their cord of connection, its force pushed LaCroix back down into his seat.

He closed his eyes against the unwanted, excess moisture that started to pool. Tears were not an indulgence he allowed himself. Even tears of pain for his beloved son were a weakness that could not be tolerated. But the grief-laden impressions he gleaned from his protege were almost more than he could bear. The misery Nicholas suffered was beyond compare.

_Nicholas, don't do this to yourself. Please. They aren't worth it._

Lucien hoped, for Nicholas' sake, the child would be found alive.

Nick was in the air-searching. Listening. Looking. For anything. Anything that would lead him to Elliot. Time was running out. Antonio didn't toy with his food for very long. Nick had to find them soon, or it would be too late. The thought of Elliot in the hands of that beast made Nick pulse with anger and tremble with fear.

_Dear God, please let him be all right._ Nick hadn't prayed in a very long time, and he wondered if prayer from a vampire would help. But he hoped Elliot wouldn't be punished for his lack of grace.

He continued to fly over the area of abandoned buildings, straining for any sign. It was the third such group he'd scanned and still no luck. At this rate he would never find Elliot in time. The panic started a slow, steady rhythm in the back of Nick's mind.

Urs, when he found her at the church with Vachon, hadn't been any help. She knew of no special places that Andrew liked to go. She'd only seen him at the Raven. Nick had, however, been grateful when the two young vampires offered to help him search. Both were familiar with the unusual aura Fisher put out, although neither understood it. They had started to look on the opposite end of the city.

After his trip to the church, Nick had returned to Andrew's condo just to make sure he hadn't taken Elliot back there. After being disappointed yet again, he'd begun scouring the city. He had started his search in the rundown areas of town-places where an obsession could be indulged with minimal threat of discovery. The old factory buildings he was passing over now were such places, but still he neither sensed nor heard anything. He hoped Urs and Vachon were having better luck.

As his hunt continued, his anxiety for Elliot increased its wear on his fragile composure with each passing minute. By the time he started to move toward one last building, it was a thin thread ready to snap. As he approached the deserted structure, he slowed, sound and sensation hitting him at the same time. The melody came from the flute, while the feeling came from a vampire with a dual identity. Zoning in on the origin of the music and the presence, urgency guided his movements as he pointed himself toward the top floor of the building.

A heartbeat-he didn't hear a heartbeat. The realization hit him as he crashed through a metal-screened window.

The room Nick landed in was empty. He began to run-out the door and down a darkened hallway, his vampire's eyes not impaired by the absence of light. The music of the flute continued to fill the silence of the long-dead building, and Nick followed it. But still, he heard no heartbeat.

A sickening dread knotted in his stomach as he reached a closed door and heard the music float from inside, felt the strong presence of one of his own kind. A blow from his fist sent the door flying off its hinges and crashing to the ground. Stepping into the room, Nick's eyes gravitated to a corner opposite the doorway. There he saw them. Andrew sitting on the floor, legs crossed, blowing on the flute as if nothing was out of the ordinary. And Elliot, his small body laying face up on the floor next to Fisher, feet together, hands at his sides, quiet. Oh so very quiet.

_No._ A numbing haze of disbelief descended on Nick as he struggled to close the distance between himself and the pair. Slowly, as if walking to his own grave, he moved to stand over Fisher and Elliot. Still the music drove the would-be silence from the tomb. His eyes didn't leave the small, lifeless body of the child he had called friend, now so silent, so still, so cold. Beautiful brown eyes saw nothing as they stared, fixed, up into Nick's face, the horror of their last sight reflected in the anguished repose.

"No." Nick whispered the denial as he shook his head. This wasn't happening. It just wasn't happening.

The music stopped.

"Nicholas." The greeting held a touch of awe, but nothing else.

Pulling his eyes away from Elliot's body, Nick looked at the unrepentant vampire seated on the floor. This tragedy was Antonio's doing, and that's exactly who he saw when he gazed into the steel-gray eyes. He was still all but paralyzed by what he was witnessing and could do little else but stare at Tony in painful shock, a red mist forming in front of his eyes.

"Nicholas, don't look at me like that." Antonio gingerly rose to his feet. "I realize you were fascinated by the child, but he was a mortal. Your preoccupation with them isn't healthy. You'll have to learn that sometime, my boy." He looked over at the body and smiled. "When I saw him the other night, I knew I had to have him. He was perfect." He turned his attention back to Nick, a subtle frown darkening his face. "But you took it upon yourself to act as guardian angel and deny me. I will not be denied, Nicholas. And I was right...he was a perfect delicacy. Very much worth the extra effort." The satisfied smile returned.

As Nick listened to the vulgar words and watched the pleased smirk turn Antonio's mouth, the paralysis vanished and something in him shattered. The outrage and hatred surged forward in a deafening scream. "Nooo!"

Outside, a couple involved in their neighborhood-watch program froze in their tracks, petrified by the anguished wail coming from inside the abandoned building. After a second or two, the man pulled out his cell phone and called 911. They waited for help to arrive.

Nick lunged for Caproni and they both ended up on the floor, Nick on top of Tony, his hands around his enemy's throat. His eyes were red as he hissed through extended fangs. "I'll send you to hell, monster."

The intense rage and sorrow flowing through Nick gave incredible power to the vice his hands created around Antonio's neck. He didn't know if he could decapitate the vampire with his bare hands, but at that moment, it almost seemed possible. He continued to squeeze. But the complacent smile on the Italian's face gave Nick pause as he suddenly recognized the futility of his efforts. The wicked condescension lurking in Tony's eyes only added fuel to the detective's anger, and he pulled his gaze from the infuriating smugness. His eyes fell on the once precious flute that Antonio still held in his grip. Now soiled by the Italian's touch, it was nothing more than an adequate weapon.

Releasing Caproni's throat, Nick ripped the instrument from his hand. He would see an end to this demon. He would avenge Elliot's death. He would make Tony pay for what he'd done.

With both hands tightly around the flute, Nick lifted it over his head like a dagger. Looking down into his victim's face, he was disappointed not to see the same paralyzing horror he'd witnessed fixed in Elliot's eyes, not to behold an equalizing fear of impending death. The self-satisfied expression was no longer there, but there was no fear or remorse reflected in the features either. Instead, much to his dismay, Nick noted a calm confidence, a settled resolve. And when he spoke, Tony's voice was as tranquil as the look on his face. "Do what you feel you must, Nicholas. But I will see you again." He smiled-a confident, superior smile.

The words of defiance, and the look of complete satisfaction, heightened Nick's outrage and spurred him on. Without any more hesitation, he plunged the ancient piece of wood deep into Antonio's heart.

It was at this precise moment that Nick finally saw the pain he'd wanted to see as the features of the vampire beneath him contorted in genuine agony from the blow. But the gratification he'd expected to feel from the sight eluded him as he heard a strangled "Knight?" break the silence, and he realized that it was Andrew who was experiencing the brunt of his wrath, not Antonio. The perplexed, tortured expression on the fledgling's face stole any triumph Nick might have felt. Rather, as he watched the last embers of existence fade from the body beneath him, Nick felt shame for Fisher's murder and cheated by Tony's apparent escape.

Repulsed by the scene before him, Nick scurried to his feet and turned his back on the dead vampire. But what filled his eyes when he looked away from Fisher repulsed him even more. He was confronted by Elliot's lifeless body. The hideous picture brought forth a sorrow and devastation that rocked him to the very core. Elliot was dead. _No. It can't be. It just can't be._ But it was.

Staggering the few steps to Elliot, Nick fell to his knees, the tears streams of red down his face. He gathered the small body in his arms and held the boy close, his head resting on top of the silky, blond hair. As the grief consumed him, Nick slowly rocked the body back and forth in a gesture of belated comfort. He sat lost in the black vacuum of his suffering for several long minutes, unaware of anything other than the pain that ripped at his heart.

After those first few minutes, something began to slowly pull him back from the pit. He became aware of a sound. Sirens. He heard police sirens in the distance, but they seemed to be coming closer. The realization cleared some of the anguished fog, and he looked over at Fisher's body, a trickle of rational thought finding its way into his head. The sirens were right outside the building now, and he heard voices, several voices.

_How did they know?_ He shook his head. It really didn't matter. What did matter was that he had to think straight. He had to get Andrew's body out of here.

Nick looked back into Elliot's face. Gently, he closed the horrified, brown eyes and hugged him close again. He would have to leave the body here to be found. Jacob and Elizabeth deserved some sort of closure, no matter how painful, and a chance to heal. Having Elliot's body to lay to rest was the only way that could be done.

He spied the fang marks on the child's neck and eight hundred years of programming took control. He searched for something to hide the marks and protect the community. A piece of glass on the floor next to him would do. Through tear-filled eyes, he ran the sharp glass over the marks, cutting the skin and distorting the evidence. The lack of blood would be a problem if Nat didn't get this case, but he wasn't to the point of caring that much about it right now.

He heard movement on the lower floors. The officers had entered the building and were starting to search. He had to leave.

Kissing Elliot tenderly on the forehead, Nick reverently laid the body back on the ground. A scarlet tear fell on a small, pale cheek, and the vampire carefully wiped it away before standing.

Walking back over to Fisher's body, Nick picked it up and flew from the tomb.

A smelting plant served him well as he deposited the body and the instrument in a vat of molten steel. He watched as the body, and the once sacred flute, sank into the liquid metal. Then, the numbness starting to overtake him again, he took to the air.

He'd flown all night, trapped inside the cage of sadness, anger and self-incrimination he'd built around himself. Now the heat of the morning sun pricked Nick's skin as he flew. It was just below the horizon. He had precious few minutes to make it to safety. But did he really want to protect himself, save himself? It would be so easy to meet the new day and stop his torture, spare the humans around him.

He'd been the cause of yet another innocent mortal's death, a beloved child, no less. His own death seemed the logical way to end everyone's suffering, including his own.

But would his suffering end? Or would he sully another mortal soul with his thirst for human blood? Would he continue to exist and never find the release that true death could offer him?

The doubt that festered within him pushed Nick back to the loft before it was too late.

He punched in the security code and stepped into the elevator. The heartbeat he heard told him that Natalie waited upstairs. She was not going to like his decision, but it was the best thing for everyone involved. He had to make her understand.

End Chapter 16


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

When she heard the elevator start to move, the muscles throughout her entire body breathed a sigh of relief.

She'd gone to the scene of a murder last night. A scene that had horrified her almost as much as finding Cynthia's body had. She'd discovered that the bloodless body of Elliot Simmons was her latest case. Seeing his small, pale form laying on the dirty, cold floor of the abandoned building had struck her with nauseated disbelief. It had taken several minutes for the initial shock to subside. An aching sadness followed, and then a fearful desperation took over as she went through the motions of her examination.

Nick. She had to talk to Nick. But he hadn't accompanied his partner to the crime scene. A very distressed Tracy had told her that he'd taken a personal day. And after assuring the young detective that she'd let Nick know what was going on, Nat tried calling the loft, but all she got was the machine. He didn't answer his pages or cell phone. He had simply vanished.

Two hours of not being able to get a hold of him was all she'd been able to stand. Her lunch break was spent running to the loft to see if he was simply ignoring the phone. The place had been empty. As she'd stood in the quiet stillness of the loft, an intuitive flutter in the pit of her stomach told Natalie that Nick already knew what had happened to Elliot. From that moment on, the frightening possibility that she would never see Nick again had her coiled tight as a spring. Disappearing was one of his fortes, and after what happened last night, she already knew what was probably going through his mind.

She stopped pacing and turned to face the door, her heart about to beat its way out of her chest. _Thank God._

Now she would get the chance to talk him out of what she was certain he was contemplating. She prayed that she could. He could be so damn stubborn sometimes. But more important than his pigheadedness was the plain, simple fact that a life without him in it was unthinkable. She couldn't let him walk away from everything. She wouldn't let him off the hook easily this time.

After Schanke's death, she'd been so shocked and angered by his unwillingness to confide in her that she'd been ready to let him go without much of a fight. But not this time. Not by a long shot. She'd had the opportunity to examine her feelings for him very closely over the last year. What happened between them during the Jerry Show investigation and Nick's memory loss had helped to cement the love she'd held for him since the moment she touched his icy cheek six years ago in the morgue. She couldn't let him walk out of her life, and away from all they were trying to accomplish. She couldn't and she wouldn't.

The door slid open, and Natalie's breath caught in her throat as Nick entered the room. To say he looked dreadful would have been an understatement. The wet snow that had fallen through the night had soaked him to the skin, and the phrase 'drowned rat' flashed through her head. The familiar black coat hung heavily on his stooped shoulders, weighed down by the moisture it held. His hair was a dark-blond cape plastered to his head, save for a few stubborn curls that made their presence known here and there.

And then there was his face, his beautiful, angelic face. It was now marred by the remnants of tears still clinging to his cheeks, the taletell crimson offering the only color on an otherwise porcelain complexion. There was also a deep pain etched across his brow, the intensity of which distorted the handsome features into a grim mask.

Natalie did all she could to stifle a groan of anguished sympathy as she took stock of the personage standing before her. Not only was the sight of his physical presence distressing, but the utter desolation she saw in his eyes tore savagely at her heart. The resigned defeat she read in his sad face only added credence to her conclusions. He was ready to give up.

When his mournful gaze finally met hers, for him stung her eyes. God, she wanted to help him, comfort him. She took a silent step toward him in her need to soothe his pain, but something entered his eyes that warned her to stay away-a sudden hardness that told her no. She knew the look. She'd seen it several times before. Its appearance now made her heart grow even heavier with the despair that threatened to engulf it. He was ready to push everyone away, not let anyone near him. It was his defense mechanism, she knew. A defense for both himself and the mortals around him. But if she let him succeed this time, she would lose him forever. He would disappear from her life, and she would never see him again.

_No._ She refused to consider the possibility.

Ignoring his warning, she ventured another step toward him. A sympathetic hand reached out to him when she whispered. "Oh, Nick. I'm so very sorry."

"He's dead, Nat." Nick's voice wavered as he seemed to be fighting the return of his tears. A strangled second of silence and he continued, the hard anger returning to his manner. "And I killed him."

She looked on with stunned incredulity as Nick pulled off his coat and threw it on the back of a kitchen chair, the force of his rage almost sending the chair crashing to the floor.

"No, Nick." Nat faltered when the vampire pinned her with a steely look of menacing skepticism, but she didn't let it deter her. She wasn't about to allow Nick to frighten or intimidate her. Playing into his hands was not going to get her anywhere. "Yes...a vampire killed him, but I don't believe for one second that it was you."

The attempt to hide the fang marks on Elliot's neck might have fooled another coroner, but she'd seen past the cut and recognized the telling wounds. When she had identified what had killed the boy, her conversation with Nick a few mornings ago had resurfaced. She'd been convinced that she knew which particular vampire had committed the atrocity. "Antonio killed Elliot, didn't he?"

Hardened blue eyes dropped to the floor before closing. Natalie watched a grave hopelessness soften Nick's expression as he nodded. "Yes, Antonio killed Elliot." A few ticks of stillness and his eyes sprang open. Nat saw the anger wash back into his face. "But I could have stopped him." His voice brimmed with a palpable disgust. "I failed to do what I knew needed to be done, and Elliot died as a result. _I_ killed him!"

"No!" The forceful word erupted from Natalie as she took another step forward, a faint hysteria slipping into her voice. She had to put a stop this destructive thinking. She had to make him realize, to make him see, that this was not his fault. She didn't know how she was going to do it. She just knew it had to be done. Pushing against the fear that started to trickle into her mind, she continued. "Damn it, Nick. Don't do this to yourself. You did not kill Elliot. You're no more responsible for his death than I am."

"No?" The response was little more than a sneer as Nick stalked past her and stopped in front of the refrigerator. His hand on the door, he looked into her face. "If I'd destroyed Fisher when I had the chance, this never would have happened. If I hadn't left Elliot alone last night, this never would have happened. If I hadn't chosen to become a friend of Jacob and his family, this never would have happened." He paused for a moment, a harsh light of realization coming into his eyes. "When I think about it, I guess that's when I really screwed up. When I thought myself worthy of another mortal friendship." His eyes narrowed as he continued the caustic accusations. "How many more people will have to die before I learn my lesson? Humans in my orbit die, Natalie. Mortals that I get close to don't have a chance. That's the way it's been for eight hundred years, and it'll be that way for eight hundred more."

"No!" Nat fiercely denied his declarations. He was wrong. She had to convince him that he was terribly wrong.

Natalie's heart grew heavier still as Nick pulled open the door and retrieve a bottle. He raised it in the air in a bitter salute, and she noticed the identifying label. It was from the Raven. It was human. The descent had begun.

"Here's to not trying to be something you aren't! To staying with one's own kind! To my family...the vampires! The prodigal son returns!" He brought the blood to his lips and drank deeply, all but finishing the already half-empty bottle.

The malignant words sent a chilling shudder through Natalie. She looked on in numbed horror as Nick lowered the blood from his mouth. The eyes she gazed into now were no longer the familiar, beautiful blue-no longer human. Although she fought against it, the golden hue that filled his eyes scared the hell out of her. So, too, did the points of his extended canines as they peeked out from beneath his embittered smile. She'd seen the vampire in Nick several times, but he'd never looked more foreign to her than he did at this very moment. Even after the demon, the yellow look he'd given her had not affected her in quite this way. She felt her pulse begin to beat a little faster as a stifling apprehension began to worm its way into her mind.

"Yes, Natalie." His voice was something akin to a low, predatory growl, and Nat took an involuntary step backward. An unwanted panic spread through her as she listened to him go on. "You can't deny it. And I can no longer fight it. This is what I am. A beast. A killer. Evil. Do you want to be another victim of this evil, Natalie? If I stay, you surely will be."

Natalie stared into the questioning eyes of the vampire, an icy hand clutching at her insides as she understood what he was saying to her. Was she in danger? The way she felt right now made her want to run as fast as her feet would carry her. Would she someday become another victim of a vampire's bloodlust? Would she become the victim of this vampire's bloodlust?

_Snap out of it, Lambert! You're letting him get to you._

Unconsciously, she shook her head, her eyes still locked on Nick. She was falling into his trap. She was letting him win. And in doing so, she was letting him go. Nick would never hurt her. She believed that with every thread of iron will she possessed.

'If I stay...' The words echoed in her head. She'd been right. He was going to walk away, leave her.

_By God, no he isn't!_

Even as she looked into the preternatural face before her and felt her heart pound with the fear the being stirred inside her, the love Natalie held for this tortured soul forced its way to the surface. Through the murkiness of the misgivings, her tender feelings shown brightly, a beacon guiding her away from the dangerous pit of despair. Her stubborn refusal to let go of those feelings gave her the courage to do battle. Her need to fight for him pushed aside her sudden mistrust of him. In its place settled a calming determination.

She smiled, and experienced a twinge of triumph when she saw a disbelieving flinch cross Nick's face. "I can deny everything, Nick. You're not a beast. You're not evil."

"And a killer?" He shot back.

"Yes. You were a killer. It's a sin of the past. One that can be forgiven. You don't kill now, and you didn't kill Elliot. What happened to him wasn't your fault."

For a brief moment she thought her words had started to break through Nick's wall of self-loathing and anger. The harsh lines of rage faded from his face, and a subtle confusion entered his still golden eyes. A sigh escaped Natalie as she watched those eyes fall shut in what appeared to be a silent surrender. Now maybe he would begin to listen to her.

Making up the ground she'd relinquished only minutes earlier, Nat took several steps forward. She had a sudden, desperate need to put her arms around him. But as she closed the gap between them, Nick's attention focused on her once again. His eyes remained the golden color of a vampire, and the sharp edge returned to his features. She froze in her tracks, another wave of grief threatening to overtake her. She hadn't broken through the barrier. She hadn't even made a dent.

"You just don't get it, do you?" The quiet, velvet voice dripped with piercing ridicule. "I am death."

She nearly jumped out of her skin when, in the next instant, Nick sent the bottle in his hand flying across the room. It shattered against the fireplace. Natalie's startled eyes followed the bottle to see its remaining contents trickle down the wooden surface.

Then, Nick moved. Her attention was torn from the fireplace when she felt his hands grip her upper arms. Wide-eyed, she looked back at the creature who held her captive. Now, only inches from the stern, preternatural face, the yellow eyes bore into hers, challenging her to look away. A wicked grin revealed the tips of his fangs as he pulled her close and hissed, "How does it feel to be held by death, Natalie?"

How did it feel? God, she didn't know. A dozen different emotions rushed through her, some of which didn't make any sense at all. The unnatural coolness of his body radiated through his damp clothing as she rested up against him, and through the returning unease, she felt an impulsive craving. His threatening nearness brought back that earlier desire to run, but it also stirred the longing. It was crazy. She should have been terrified by this aggressiveness, but no. The feel of him aroused a yearning that her love for him refused to keep dormant. Closing her eyes, she beat back the conflicting emotions of panic and desire that assaulted her.

The touch of his lips on her neck drew a quiet, strained gasp from Natalie, her body involuntarily tensing with the dangerously sensual contact. Her eyes popped open to see Nick raise his head. He looked into her face, the challenge still reflected in his eyes. She held her breath when again he lowered his head, his mouth coming within a hair's width of her ear. His voice took on a soft, almost seductive, quality. "How does it feel to look into the face of death? Are you scared out of your wits? Do you want to run?" Again, he looked into her face. "You should, you know. Get as far away from me as possible. Save yourself."

With the last words, she saw it. The crack. A minuscule, but heartening, break in the wall. A fleeting spark of agony had found its way into his golden eyes as he warned her away, and she drew strength from it. Her courage returned.

"Death? I don't see death, Nick. I see pain...so much pain." Lifting a hand, she gently slid it down a crimson-stained cheek. She was encouraged when his eyes closed at her touch. "I see sorrow. A deep, heart-breaking sorrow." She heard him draw a sharp breath when her hand moved to run a soft finger over his brow. "And anger. I see a misguided anger. A raging self-hatred that has the power to destroy. But I won't let you, Nick. This was not your fault." Her hand came to rest under his chin. "No matter what you do, how much you try to frighten me for my own good, I'll never believe in anything but the goodness I know to be inside you."

With a tortured groan, he abruptly dropped his hands from her arms, the wall all at once crumbling before her eyes. Misery flooded his eyes as quickly as the yellow color left them. "You don't understand, Natalie." Turning, he walked to stand in front of the fireplace. "I'm gone. I'm outta here. For everyone's sake, I've got to leave."

There, he'd finally said it. He was running away. His first instinctual reaction to the pain he thought he'd caused. Oh, he believed he was doing everyone a favor, but he was still running. And anyway, his leaving was no favor. It was a cheat, a desertion. The hurt blossomed into a prickly anger while Natalie dwelled on his intention to abandon his life in Toronto.

"For everyone's sake?" she repeated, a flicker of the irritation touching her voice. "What about Jacob and Elizabeth, Nick? What about their sake? You're their friend. Are you going to leave them when they need you most?" Joining him at the fireplace, she stood at his side looking up at his sad profile. "Well? Are you?"

The mention of Elliot's parents seemed to stun Nick for a moment. He stood motionless, as if petrified, his eyes locked on the dark hearth. It was almost as if he'd forgotten about them, so lost was he in his own world of torment. Hearing their names seemed to stop his train of thought, as the recognition of their loss and devastation hit him. Nat watched what appeared to be a battle of confused loyalties play out on Nick's face while he considered her challenge and decided how to answer her.

The conflict of will didn't last long when, after several seconds, he glared down at her and scoffed, "Need me? I'm the reason for their pain, Natalie. How can I help them when I know, if not for me, their son would still be alive? I got too close to them, and they suffered for it. The best thing I can do for them is to stay out of their lives."

"Bull! That's a bunch of bull, Nick!" Nat let her growing frustration surge forward. She just couldn't help it. He could be so intolerably pig-headed.

Unfortunately, her outburst didn't appear to have much effect on him. He still stared down on her with that granite look of all-knowing defiance. In his eyes he was guilty, and nothing she could say would change his mind or make him stay.

Taking a deep breath, she silently counted to ten. She made a supreme effort to knock the volume of her anger down a few notches, while trying to quell her fear and summon her conviction. He was not going to leave. He was not going to leave! Slowly, she placed an unsure hand on his arm. He allowed the contact, and she breathed a hushed sigh before going on. "The best thing you can do for them is be their friend. This is not your fault. They don't need your misguided self-hatred, Nick. They need you. Your friendship. Your support. Your love. Don't deny them this comfort, Nick. They need it. God...do they need it."

Her last pitying words must have struck a chord. Nick turned to completely face Natalie, a tormented realization haunting his eyes. "You've seen them?"

"Yes," was all she could manage as the unwanted memory from earlier that night became fresh once again. It was a recollection that she didn't want to repeat as Jacob refused to believe her identification and insisted on seeing the body himself. His scream of denial would hound her dreams for a very long time to come, while the excruciating horror on Elizabeth's face would continue to break her heart. Even now the pictures brought a moisture to Nat's eyes. "Yes, Nick," she repeated, her voice husky with the unshed tears. "I saw them when they came down to identify the body. I can't describe to you the agony I saw on both their faces. Devastation doesn't even begin to cover it."

Nick's mouth tightened into a pained frown as he closed his eyes against her heart-wrenching words. Clearly, this was not something he wanted to hear. But he had to hear it. He had to be made to understand that he was needed...here. That he could help, not hurt.

Turning away from Natalie again, Nick looked back into the cold fireplace, the forceful, saddening recognition visible on his face. It was as if she'd put before him something he had pushed aside. Something he'd avoided dealing with. Now, he was coerced into facing it again, and his ability to deal with the stark reality looked as if it were on the shakiest of ground. No doubt because it was too painful for him to think about what he'd done to his two friends' lives. At least, what he perceived he'd done to their lives. It was a burden he didn't seem prepared to carry, not after everything else he'd gone through in the last several months.

Nat couldn't stop the trembling that started somewhere deep inside her. Was this the straw that would finally break the camel's back?

"Nick?" She squeezed his arm. "They're hurting. They need you. You didn't do this to them. You can help them, but you've got to stick around in order to do it. You can't run away."

"But I can't stay, Natalie." His defeated sigh tugged at Nat's heart. Breaking their contact, he moved to stand behind a black leather chair, putting some distance, and a barrier, between them, his eyes again lost in the emptiness of the fireplace.

The separation was more than physical. Nick was pulling away from her emotionally as well. Like a sheer curtain of frost, a guarded coolness fell between them. He was starting to repair the wall of protection, preparing once more to cut himself off from the humans around him.

It was all she could do to keep the tears of pain from her eyes as he continued. "I did do this to them." Nick turned his head to look back at Natalie, an unforgiving anger burning in his eyes. "I brought them into contact with things that never should have touched their lives. Evil things. And after having done that, I failed to protect them from that evil."

"A vampire's evil? Your evil?" Natalie used her impatience with Nick's stubbornness to stifle the sadness that threatened to swallow her. "I don't believe that, Nick. Oh, an evil vampire did kill Elliot, but I don't believe that because he is a vampire, he is evil. Antonio is-"

"Was." Nick interrupted her as his eyes fell to an unseen spot on the floor. "Antonio was..."

"He's dead?" Natalie quietly asked for an unnecessary clarification. She hadn't known how Nick had found Elliot or if he'd even seen Antonio. Apparently, he'd discovered the other vampire when he'd located the child. She could only imagine the rage that must have consumed Nick when he'd discovered the murdered boy. It would seem he had avenged Elliot's death, and rid the city of Antonio's dark shadow. A lightening relief blanketed her mind for a moment as she comprehended what Nick was telling her.

"I don't really know. I destroyed the body, but... For now at least, he's dead. I was too late to save Elliot, but I killed Caproni." There was no satisfaction in his voice, no triumph for having eliminated the malignant threat. There was only hurt and disappointment when he'd said Elliot's name. "I staked Andrew with the flute and threw the body into a vat of molten steel."

The bitterness that crept into Nick's voice bit sharply into Nat's nerves. But her uncomfortable reaction to the acid in his tone was overshadowed by a profound grief as she learned what happened to the flute. Its destruction, along with the way it was destroyed, hit her hard because of the vanquished dream it represented. Or perhaps more accurately, the complete and total extinction of a dream. Not only was Elliot dead, but the instrument that had represented so much promise and hope for the future was also destroyed, used as a weapon, soiled by death. Another dream shattered. Another hope trampled. Another reason to give up and walk away.

"The flute? Oh, Nick..." Again Natalie's tears were dangerously close to falling.

"Yeah." Nick's caustic bark of laughter sent an icy finger up her backbone. Raising his eyes from the floor, he looked into her face, a cynical smile on his lips. "Philip would be pleased, wouldn't he? If he knew what had become of his precious work?"

"Nick, don't. Please don't." She ventured a few steps forward, the need to comfort him pushing her closer. "Your bitterness isn't going to do anybody any good."

"No? Then tell me, Nat...what will do everybody some good? You don't seem to think that my leaving is the answer, so what then?"

"Time." It sounded very simple and very unoriginal, but she knew it to be true. Nothing would lessen the pain and disillusionment like time. Trying an encouraging smile, she moved another step forward. "You've just got to give it time. You know that better than anyone."

"Time?" Another short, sarcastic laugh. "How quaint. How cliched." Stepping around the chair, Nick walked up to stand no more than a foot in front of Natalie, his challenging stance sending one more shard of fear slicing through her. "How much time, Natalie? A day? A year? A century?" He shook his head, his piercing blue gaze locked with hers. "These wounds will never heal."

Pulling her courage up by the bootstraps, Nat did battle with Nick's intimidating posture. He was pushing again, but she wasn't going to be pushed. Instead, she reached out to him and cupped a tender hand on his cheek. The contact seemed to undermine his shield of malice, and she watched his steely features soften, the anger giving way to pain and need. She wasn't sure, but she thought she felt him lean into her caress as she started to speak. "Fresh wounds never feel as though they're going to heal. Like I said, it takes time."

Taking her hand from his face, Nick cradled it between both of his. The gesture was gentle, comforting. Natalie felt her pulse jump, an encouraged thrill racing through her. But, even though his anger appeared to have faded somewhat, his next words were anything but encouraging. "Well, time might be the answer, but it will be time spent away from here. It has to be."

_No!_ The rejection screamed in Natalie's head while she searched frantically for something else to say to him to get him to change his mind. She refused to give up. She truly believed that if he would just give himself some time...

"A month, Nick." She blurted out the words without a second thought as a challenge of her own making sprang into her mind. She prayed with all the faith she possessed that he would take her up on it. "Give me one month. That's all I ask. Can you spare a friend that much time?" She watched a confusion cloud Nick's eyes. "All I'm asking you to do is stay, nothing more. Just stay in Toronto and be Detective Nicholas Knight for one more month. To someone who has all the time in the world, surely a month won't be too much of a hardship? Stay, reflect, and heal. If, after that time you still feel the same way, I won't ask anything more of you. If you still feel the need to leave, I won't try to stop you. But, please, give me this time. Please."

Shaking his head, he dropped her hand and walked to stand behind the couch. More distance. Another barrier. Natalie's breath all but deserted her as she waited for his response. Finally, after several, inordinately long seconds, he looked into her hopeful face, a sad resolve reflected in his eyes. "Nat, what I do, I do for your protection as well as everyone else's. Can't you see that? I don't want to hurt you or anyone else. Leaving is the best thing for me to do."

"No, it isn't," she insisted, her own stubborn streak widening by the minute. "And you'll never convince me otherwise, so don't waste your breath."

They stood silently for a moment. Natalie waited for Nick's rejoinder, but he didn't appear at all eager to try to change her mind. And while they considered each other in those silent seconds, she decided to confront his decision to leave with a question that suddenly occurred to her. "And when you leave...? When you get to your next destination? What then, Nick? It'll start all over again, won't it? New mortals...new friends."

"Like hell!" Running a violent hand through his hair, he pulled his eyes from her and strode back over to the fireplace. "Not this time." Once again, he glared into the lifeless grate. "I've finally learned my lesson. Mortals won't play such a big part in my life any more. They can't, for their own safety."

His quick, forceful answer took Natalie aback. She wasn't sure why it surprised her so much though. With his mind in the state it was now, the grief and self-condemnation running rampant, it was his nature to want to retreat, to pull himself back from those he thought he threatened. She supposed it was the powerful, unwavering finality with which he said it that got to her. He truly sounded as if he had no intention of ever getting close to humans again. The very idea frightened her to death.

She tried reasoning with him, her need to change his mind driving her onward. "You can't cut yourself off completely, Nick. It's not possible."

Slowly, he moved his head from side to side while he continued to focus on the dark surface in the hearth. "Not completely, but I can keep my distance."

"But...you'll be so alone." Natalie's voice was barely audible, but she knew he could hear her. His distance. She was already beginning to experience what that meant as she felt the space between them grow with each second that ticked past. It appeared as though he wasn't going to wait until he moved on to begin the separation. The realization was a cold splinter of misery cutting through her shaky composure.

"Not alone." He finally looked back at her. A defeated sadness shaded his eyes, while the rigid set of his jaw gave strength to his disturbing words. "I'll always have my eternal family. I can become a part of their lives again without being a threat to them. Maybe that, too, is for the best."

The remaining grain of Natalie's hope began to dissolve upon hearing this declaration. LaCroix. He would return to LaCroix. And Janette?

"And what about your search for a cure? Has the desire to be mortal died with Elliot?" It was a question she was afraid she already knew the answer to, but she had to hear it from him. Against her will, a single tear of defeat slipped down her cheek.

"My search? I...I don't know." He moved his eyes away from Natalie's face, as if unable to look at the devastation he saw there. He seemed to concentrate on some unknown point above her head while he attempted to explain himself. "I'm tired of searching and never finding. A cure seems suddenly impossible right now. I'll always have to depend on mortals for the pursuit and I don't think I can do that anymore. I can't get that close to them anymore. I can't condemn them anymore."

Even as he appeared set in his course, Natalie refused to surrender her hope. Wiping the unwanted tear from her cheek, she stubbornly issued her challenge again. "A month, Nick. I'm still asking for that month. All I want is for you to stay, nothing more. No protein drinks. No blood tests. No lectures. I'm offering a friendly ear and a warm shoulder, and asking for a little time in return."

"I...I can't." Nick looked back into Natalie's face and she was pleased to see genuine uncertainty in his solemn features. He was struggling. She was glad he was struggling. It gave her hope.

"Please don't make me beg, Nick." Although she supposed she'd just done that very thing. But it didn't matter, not really. She wanted him to stay. She needed him to stay. "One month. Am I really asking for so much?"

There was another long silence as Nick's confused gaze bore into Nat's. He was still fighting, still struggling, still uncertain. She thought she saw the harsh reflection in his eyes soften a bit before he closed them and sighed. It was an exhausted sound, a yielding sound. And again Natalie's optimism found a new breath of life. Perhaps he would surrender to her this one last wish. _Please._

"No, Nat." Nick's eyes opened as he slowly shook is head. "I don't want you to beg. I'd never want you to beg." Pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants, he eased some of Natalie's pain and worry. "All right." His voice held a note of weary resignation. "I'll stay for one month. Because you asked me to. But I can't promise you anything else."

The relief that poured over Nat almost sent her to her knees with its intensity. His last words of discouragement, however, tempered the joy she felt at his agreement to stay. She knew she was, more than likely, only postponing the inevitable, but at this point she didn't care. He would stay for a month. And in that time, maybe, they could loosen the grip of sadness and defeat that held him so tightly.

"Thank you." The grateful reply came from Natalie in the form of a satisfied sigh. Joining Nick at the fireplace, she faced him with a sad smile. That dissolving grain of hope was not completely gone. She grabbed it and held on for dear life. Right now, it was all she had. "You won't regret this, Nick. It'll be all right."

Holding her gaze with a concentrated steadiness, Nick's doubt echoed in his chilly voice. "I hope you don't end up regretting it, Natalie. Just like Jacob and Elizabeth should regret the day they ever set eyes on me."

God, but he was bullheaded. This was not going to be easy. Removing the blinders was going to be nothing if not a steep, uphill climb. If it could be done at all. She had one month, and then he would leave her life forever if she couldn't change his mind. But would he let her close enough to try? His cool tone and retreating posture made her wonder if she would even have a chance.

She paused a moment to consider his last statement. Regret his entrance into her life? No. Never. She remembered that fateful night in the morgue with precious wonder. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. This amazing being had stumbled into her life, and she had found love. No one could regret that, surely.

Reaching out to him again, her hand once more found his tear-stained cheek. She felt him tense with the contact, but he didn't pull away. "I'll never regret having you in my life, Nick. Never. And Jacob and Elizabeth have no reason for regrets either. I'll say it again, and I'll keep on saying it until it sinks into that thick skull of yours. This was not your fault. Beth and Jacob need you. They'll be thankful for your support. You can help them get through this tragedy."

Taking a step back, Nick moved away from Natalie's touch, a deep frown tugging at his mouth. When he spoke, Nat heard the subtle fear that tainted his voice. "I don't know if I can face them again. I just don't know."

"Yes, you can. You can. You must. You know as well as I do that if you don't go to them it would be one more hurt piled on top of their already unbearable pain. They won't understand, Nick. You know that."

The truth of her words didn't seem to be lost on him. Running another impatient hand through his hair, Nick turned away from her with a disturbed groan. Even with his back to her, Natalie could sense the thick tension that contracted his every muscle. The battle continued to rage within him. Without turning around to face her, Nick accepted Natalie's logic. "You're right. They wouldn't understand. But doing right by them and doing what is best for them are two very different things. If I do what's right...stay and be their friend, I leave the door open for more pain. If I do what's best for them...get out of their lives, I close that door...protect them from the pain."

"But you just can't slam that door in their faces, Nick. Leave them hanging without an explanation. You need to be there for them...now more than ever."

Turning around slowly, Nick's eyes settled on Natalie once again, the sad frown etching deeper into his features. "I know, Nat. I know. I promised you that I'd stay and be Detective Nicholas Knight for one month. Well, part of being Nicholas Knight is being a friend to the Simmons family. It's just going to be very hard to look them in the eye after what's happened."

"Elliot's death wasn't your fault." Natalie whispered again, and she silently wondered how many times she was going to have to repeat it. She admitted that she'd say it 1000 times a day, if that's what it took to get him to believe it.

"Elliot." The quiet misery in Nick's voice as he spoke the child's name pulled at Nat's heartstrings. The depth of his desolate pain was all wrapped up in that single, regret-filled plea. She watched through a hazy pain of her own as he closed his eyes, and a solitary, red tear slid down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Nick."

Just as Natalie choked out the sympathy, Nick's cell phone began to ring. He stood motionless, his eyes still closed, seemingly unaware of the beckoning sound. He was ignoring it, just like she knew he'd ignored all of her attempts to get hold of him throughout the previous night. Or maybe...he really didn't hear it, so lost was he in the agonizing abyss.

"Nick? Nick?" Natalie put a hand on his arm and gave a gentle squeeze. His eyes opened, and she saw the question there. "Your phone. Don't you think you ought to talk to someone? Let them know where you are?"

It was probably Tracy or Captain Reese, Nat surmised. They both knew what had happened, but neither one knew if Nick was aware of what had happened. Natalie hadn't had the opportunity to tell anybody that she'd found Nick. His partner and his boss were bound to be worried.

With the stilted movement of a robot from some old science fiction movie, Nick blindly wiped the tear away and reached for the phone. His voice was husky with emotion when he answered the call. "Knight." Rubbing his eyes again, he paused to listen to the caller. "Yeah, Trace, I'm fine. Yes, Nat found me. She's with me now. She told me what happened." Another silence while he stared down at the floor. "Thanks, Tracy. Okay. Good-bye." His eyes fell to the phone in his hand. Again a long pause as he seemed oddly frightened by the modern contraption in his grip. "I should talk to Jacob and Beth."

Right after he finished the statement, the phone began to ring again. Nick flinched slightly at the sound.

The intuitive flutter in the pit of Nat's stomach returned. She somehow knew that Jacob was on the other end of the line. And from the tentative, almost horrified, look on Nick's face, she knew that he had the same suspicion.

The phone rang three more times before Nick took a deep breath and opened it. "Hello." Natalie watched him close his eyes as he listened, his face clouding with pain. "Jacob...I...I'm- Oh God...Jacob, I'm so sorry. I didn't find him in time. I'm so sorry." One more red tear slipped from his eye.

As she saw the emotion slowly roll down Nick's cheek, Natalie's hold on his arm tightened. She didn't know what else to do to convey her support for him, what else he would allow her to do. She wanted to hold him, put her arms around him, and tell him that everything was going to be all right. But...was it? Would everything really be all right again?

With his eyes still closed, Nick seemed to suddenly harness his failing composure as he listened to Jacob. Nat felt the muscles in his arm harden under her hand, as he appeared to be gathering his strength around him. There was an abrupt change in his body posture. It was as if he were steeling himself against something. And with this observation, Natalie once more recognized that the wall was well on its way to being reconstructed right before her eyes. The hard tension in his body made it seem as though he were silently rejecting everything he was hearing from Jacob, refusing to believe what he heard, stubbornly resisting any sympathy that may be offered him.

Natalie could only imagine the words of solace the professor was surely saying to Nick, but she didn't have to imagine his rejection of those words. She could see it, feel it. Even words from Jacob didn't seem to offer Nick any comfort. If anything they were having the opposite effect. He wasn't going to let himself off the hook that easily.

Clearing his throat, Nick finally spoke again, his manner still uncertain. "I- Yes, I'll see you tonight. Kiss Beth for me. I...I'm so sorry, Jacob. Good-bye."

He lowered the phone from his ear, but made no move to close it or turn it off, his eyes still blocking out the world around him.

Nat remained quiet, not wanting to disturb him while he digested the call. But as the dial tone hummed softly in the silence of the loft, the unease began to creep back into her mind. She remembered the creature that had held her a few moments ago, and wondered what his reaction to the phone call would be.

She took a startled step backward when Nick finally moved. Opening his eyes, he quickly snapped the phone shut and pushed it into a blazer pocket. Then, pulling away from her hold on him, he took a deep breath. It was a cold, detached sound, and Natalie felt a shiver of dread shoot up her spine as Nick spoke. "He didn't sound like himself. He sounded so...far away. So...distant. So...hurt." Nick's eyes fell to the floor.

_Just like you._ Nat couldn't help but silently note.

He stared blindly at some obscure area on the rug and appeared unwilling to offer anything more, so Natalie decided to give him a tiny push. "Does he seem to be holding up okay? I was very worried about both of them last night."

"Holding up?" The question was barely audible, Nick's eyes never leaving the rug. "Holding up? Ah...as well as can be expected, I guess. I really couldn't tell. He seemed...a little numb." Pausing a second, he whispered again. "Numb."

_Just like you._ The thought replayed in Natalie's head.

She stood silently for a few seconds, and witnessed the paralysis tighten its grasp on Nick before allowing her deep need to comfort him to resurface. "Nick...Nick, I can stay today if you want me to. Actually, I really think I should stay. We can talk. Or if you want to try to get some rest, I can stretch out on the couch. I just don't want you to be alone."

Her suggestion appeared to pull him out of his stupor. Lifting his eyes, he looked into her face as he shook his head, the frosty, unforgiving line of his jaw telling her all she needed to know. Nonetheless, he emphasized his rejection with one word. "No."

"But, Nick I think I should stay. I-"

"No, Nat!" His thunderous voice made her start, a fresh sliver of fear and disappointment stabbing at her heart as he continued. "I don't wa- I don't need you here." His voice softened a little. "Please, Nat. I'll...I'll be fine."

His last statement was tinged with an encouraging note, but it didn't fool Natalie. It did, however, serve to calm her reawakened fear.

He wasn't going to be fine. But...she should have known better than to push him too hard. With things the way they were right now, it could be a dangerous mistake. She'd been stupid to try and insist he let her stay. But she was so concerned about him, and wanted so badly to try and ease his pain that she hadn't thought. Thinking didn't seem to be something she could do very clearly at this particular moment.

All she could do was feel. Feel for the man that she loved. A man who had one foot out of the door of her life, and expected her to hold it open for him while he walked through it. Well, not without a fight. But it was a fight in which she would have to choose her battles carefully. This battle, unfortunately, had been lost. The new wall was almost intact. She was going to have to find a way of smashing it to pieces again. She had one month.

"All right, Nick. I guess I'd better head home then." Her effort to keep the sad defeat out of her voice was a miserable failure.

Walking back into the kitchen, she was painfully aware of Nick's solemn gaze on her every step. He made no effort to join her, but his haunted eyes never left her. What was he thinking?

She pulled her coat from a chair and put it on. As she turned to move to the door, she remembered something she needed to tell Nick. "Ah-" She met his granite stare, and swallowed hard before continuing. "Vachon and Urs stopped by earlier, before you got back. They wanted to let you know that they didn't have any luck finding Elliot. I told them what happened. Well...part of what happened. They wanted me to tell you how sorry they are for your loss."

The steely blue softened a bit with the news, and a weak smile touched his lips. "Thanks, Nat. Thanks for everything."

"You're welcome, Nick. Anything you need. Anything. Just ask. Please, Nick. Let me help you. Please." An unwanted note of desperation found its way into her voice. She hoped he didn't notice it.

Seemingly unable to hold her gaze, Nick concentrated on the collar of her coat. "I'm not sure I can be helped, Natalie. I'm not even sure if I want help anymore. It's too dangerous." He looked up into her face again. "I'm not sure if it's worth it. I'm not sure if I'm worth it."

_Oh, God!_ Natalie's mind and heart screamed with the horrifying anguish of what she'd just heard. She supposed she should be angry with him for his attitude, but her fear of what was happening to him was such that the frustration never made it to the surface. How could she possibly leave him like this? Forgetting about her intention to leave, she took a step toward him. "Nick, don't do this. Please."

"It's getting late, Nat." Nick shoved his hands into his pants pockets and slid a sideways glance at the door. He would hear no more today. "You need your rest. I think you'd better get home. I'll see you tonight."

His negative, icy tone threatened to steal from her that small grain of hope on to which she clung so precariously, but she refused to give it up. This wasn't over. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Straightening her shoulders, she bowed her head in agreement. "Okay, Nick. I'll see you tonight." Without another look in his direction, she escaped into the elevator.

End Chapter 17


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The desolation on her face had been almost too much to bear, but bear it he did. Surprisingly well, the knowledge of what was at stake giving him strength. What he'd done had been necessary for her safety. Keeping her at a distance was the only way of protecting her.

Every fiber of his being had begged him for release, distraction, relief. He'd wanted to lose himself in her, give in to the love and comfort she so unselfishly offered him. But allowing himself that solace would have meant her death. He would never again let a mortal close enough for that to happen. Particularly the one mortal who he so desperately loved. She would come to see that he was right. After he went away, she would come to understand. She would.

He listened to her walk to her car and drive away, before moving to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle. The half bottle of human blood he'd just downed hadn't been enough, not nearly enough, and the hunger had grown into a dull, consuming ache that wracked his entire body. He needed. He wanted. And he no longer saw any reason for denying himself. Everything had come crashing down around him at the very moment he'd set eyes on Elliot's lifeless body.

_Elliot._ Tears beckoned again as thoughts of the boy entered Nick's head, the hideous picture of the small, pale body tearing at the vampire's conscience like some ravenous wolf.

His misguided efforts to be human again had brought him to this point. A point where he no longer felt like he was contributing. A point where he saw himself as nothing more than a burden to the mortals around him, a danger to their very existence. It had to stop. But taking Erica's way out was no longer an option for him. That route only threatened the corruption of more mortal souls.

Leaving humanity alone was the only way he could think of to end their torture. Living with his own kind was the only way to shield humans from his evil. His punishment would be spending the rest of eternity pretending to be contented with the choice he'd regretted almost from the very moment he'd made it. A bitter smile tightened his features as he uncorked the bottle. It was a fitting punishment, a fitting punishment indeed.

Putting the container to his lips, Nick threw back his head and allowed the rich liquid to flow down his throat. The hunger burned brightly, and the cow's blood only served to take the edge off. And even at that, it was only the smallest of edges. He silently wished for another bottle of LaCroix's procurement. What he drank didn't matter anymore. Keeping himself in control did matter. He would never kill a mortal for their blood, but human blood was his natural sustenance, it would give him the power of control. And it was a major part of his return to the family.

_Hell!_ He cursed as he lowered the half-empty container. A more immediate punishment had already begun. He would be continuing his current farce of a life. Instead of scaring Natalie away, she'd turned the tables on him. Sometimes she was just too brave for her own good. Oh, she'd been frightened, very frightened; her heartbeat had sung in his ears like the fluttering of a hummingbird's wing. But she hadn't run away. She'd stood her ground, and when it was all said and done, he'd given into her request. Why he'd done such an idiotic thing, he wasn't sure. Maybe he wanted to reward her courage, a trait he both admired and envied. Maybe he just couldn't face leaving her, not yet. Or maybe, at that moment, as he'd looked into Natalie's pleading eyes, something deep inside the burned-out shell of his soul called out for another chance. He didn't know. But whatever the reason, he'd agreed to stick around.

He really didn't believe that another chance was possible. No. Not only was it not possible, it was dangerous. He had been weak when he'd agreed to stay. He could be weak no longer. He must have been out of his mind. How could he have let himself be talked into something so reckless? He needed to get away. For everyone's sake, he had to go away.

However, he would not break his vow to Natalie. Detective Nicholas Knight would remain in Toronto for a little while longer. Pretending to be the mortal, while keeping himself at a distance would be a delicate balancing act, but not that much different from the one he already preformed everyday. Although, he had to admit, the degree of distance would have to be even greater. He hoped he could pull it off. He had to pull it off. He couldn't continue to allow himself to get caught up in the mortal lives around him. He had to keep them safe. He had to stay back.

_What about Jacob and Elizabeth?_ The question sent a shiver of dread darting up his back. How in the world was he going to face them? What could he possibly say to them? He couldn't put the degree of his own anguish into words, let alone find the proper things to say to parents whose only child was brutally murdered because of his intrusion into their lives, not to mention his weakness. Merely the thought of confronting them sent an uncontrollable panic bolting through him. Actually looking into their tormented eyes and facing their overwhelming grief was something he didn't know if he could handle. He was the cause of their misery. The guilt that went along with this knowledge was like none he'd ever known. Did he possess the courage and strength necessary to carry the guilt and confront the tragic need of his two friends?

One more, long swallow and he finished the bottle in his hand. A full container replaced it. Pulling the cork, he slammed the appliance door shut and tried to ease the thirst, his thoughts heightening the desire for fulfillment. The animal blood was starting to work...slowly. Too slowly. Again, he longed for a bottle of the Raven's stock. It would quickly cut through the hunger and give him a reprieve from the searing ache. But LaCroix's gift was gone, and still the hunger burned. The cow's blood would have to do. For now.

As he took another swallow, Nick felt a light strum along the link he shared with his master, the soothing consolation an unexpected respite from the debilitating pain. Closing his eyes, he welcomed the intrusion. No specific impressions found their way into Nick's mind. LaCroix didn't use words to express himself, only wave upon wave of sensation.

Standing quietly for a moment, Nick let the inviting compassion block out the disturbing images of Jacob and Beth. He basked in the calming pool of feeling, and found there some of the solace he so desperately needed. His father was offering him support, and he gladly accepted it. Maybe it was wrong. After all, he didn't deserve any comfort. Not after what he'd done. But the comfort afforded him by his master was something he found himself unable to resist.

The feelings continued to wash over their connection as Nick sat on the couch and finished the second bottle. The exhaustion of the last 24 hours was starting to weigh heavily on him, and although he didn't think he would be able to rest, the pull of the abyss of sleep proved too great. With his father's supportive influence blanketing his mind, Nick stretched out on the sofa, closed his eyes, and gave himself over to the tranquility of the dark.

He stared down at the sleeping form of his son, a grim frown creasing his brow. The boy suffered, grievously. The pain of his sorrow was an almost tangible, nearly overwhelming, entity filling Nicholas' mind, the evidence of which came in the form of tiny beads of red sweat glistening on his brow in the dim light of the loft.

The affect of the assault also made itself known as his son tossed his head back and forth while he mumbled in his uneasy sleep, seemingly arguing with the invisible, unrelenting ghosts that haunted his dreams. Nicholas' sleep had been, and was now, anything but peaceful. LaCroix had sensed the anguish all through the day as he himself had tried, unsuccessfully, to rest.

Walking around to the front of the couch, Lucien set one of the several bottles he'd brought with him on the coffee table while he continued to consider his son. There was only one thing that he could think of at the moment that would cause Nicholas this much pain. The Simmons boy was dead. There could be little doubt. The tortured impressions he had gleaned from Nicholas could only be the result of his protege's inability to save the child. It was something LaCroix had hoped would not happen for this very reason, but his hope had gone unrealized, unfortunately for Nicholas.

Again Lucien silently cursed his offspring's preoccupation with mortals. _If you would just leave them alone, Nicholas. Stop this unnatural fascination with them and their weak humanity. Your existence would be so much easier. You could spare yourself all of this debilitating agony._

"Elliot." The soft word escaped Nicholas. LaCroix cocked his head to one side, and with a troubled eye, watched as the nightmare became too much for his creation to tolerate. "No! Elliot!" Nicholas' own painful cries pulled him from his unsettled sleep, his eyes springing open while his hands shot out to grab the couch. For a few seconds, he lay very still, his labored breathing the only sound in the loft. After those few seconds slid past, his breathing began to slow, and with an uncertain sigh, he looked up at his master.

An unfamiliar stab of pity run through LaCroix's cold heart as he gazed at his son's sad, defeated expression. He understood the torment, but it had to stop. It only served to weaken the boy, to sap his strength. It was hideously destructive. And no one, not even Nicholas himself, would destroy LaCroix's beautiful child. No one.

"Nicholas." Lucien acknowledged his host with a bow of his head.

Swinging his feet to the floor, Nicholas sat up. Before laying his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, he returned the greeting. "LaCroix."

"I'm sorry, Nicholas." He hesitated only a brief moment before voicing his remorse.

At the words, Nicholas' head jerked up and his eyes narrowed with cynicism, his bitter voice falling like tiny drops of acid on Lucien's ears. "Are you? Are you really?"

LaCroix steeled himself against the venomous meaning the questions held. It was to be expected. After all that had passed between them over the centuries, all that he had done to sabotage Nicholas' ties with the mortal world, what other reaction should he have anticipated? The boy had every right to doubt his sincerity. However, he was sincere. He may not have welcomed the relationship between Nicholas and the young mortal, but he'd had no wish to see the child dead.

He continued to look into the tormented face of his favorite creation and acknowledged that part of Nicholas' caustic reaction was a result of the relentless sorrow and rage that ate away at him. Guilt weighed heavily on the boy. And although LaCroix was getting a glimpse of the anger, he knew that the brunt of it was being forced inward. What little poison Nicholas chose to spit his way, he would tolerate if it would help relieve some of his son's pain. But he would only be pushed so far.

Sitting in the chair next to the couch, LaCroix refused to back down. "Yes, Nicholas. I am truly sorry about the child's death. I'm sorry for what it's doing to you. For what you are doing to yourself. Let it go, Nicholas. Let it go."

Dropping his icy stare to the floor, Nicholas let out a short, sneering laugh before looking back up at his father. "You'll be happy to hear that's just what I intend to do. Let it go. Let mortals go. Let myself go."

"Indeed." LaCroix's eyebrows rose with the declaration. He sat back in the chair and made himself comfortable, an uncontrollable current of excitement coursing through him. So this was what it was all about. Earlier in the day he had sensed a change come over Nicholas, but he hadn't been able to quite put his finger on it. It had felt as though a long-wrestled-with decision had finally been reached. There had then been a modicum of relief, followed by a rigid toughness that LaCroix had never sensed from his son. It was almost as if he had felt Nicholas' heart hardening, walling itself off, protecting itself from any further injury. Until now, he wasn't sure if he had been reading his protege correctly. It had seemed too good to be true. But as he looked into Nicholas' unyielding eyes, he knew. He was finally ready. The ridiculous search for humanity was over at last.

Lucien couldn't stop his smile. He didn't want to. But he was careful to rein in his growing enthusiasm. There had been other times when he'd thought Nicholas had reached the end of his rope. Each time LaCroix had eventually been disappointed by his son's amazing resilience. This time, he would take it slowly, and see just how far Nicholas had actually been pushed. But he had to concede, Elliot's murder had gone a very long way toward thrusting Nicholas to the edge. Perhaps closer than he'd ever been. Freefall might only be a finger's touch away, if the extra force was needed at all. Could it be that Nicholas' fall had already begun?

Without so much as a 'by your leave', the boy reached for the bottle of blood sitting on the coffee table, pulled the cork and took a long drink.

Lucien's smile widened slightly as he watched his offspring partake of the nourishment. He still sensed some small degree of guilt in Nicholas for the action, but a more powerful, dominant sense was that of relief and satisfaction, fulfillment. He was a vampire quenching the hot need that scorched the very center of his being, and he basked in the release.

Lowering the bottle from his lips, the protege looked at his maker. "I needed that. Thank you."

LaCroix nodded. "You've needed it for a very long time, Nicholas. You're most welcome."

"Well, I won't be depriving myself any longer. It's not worth it anymore. The price is too high. From now on, whatever I need, I take."

The last statement sent another thrill shooting through LaCroix. They were the words of a strong vampire. He'd longed to hear words such as those from his son for more centuries than he cared to count. Hearing them now was more than he had hoped. But...a weakness still lurked in the emerging power. And again, LaCroix held his brimming excitement to a minimum. "The price?" he asked.

Taking another drink, Nicholas stood and walked to the fireplace, keeping his back to his master when he answered. "For mortality. Or at least..." A short, embittered chuckle shot from the boy. "The promise of mortality, the lie of mortality. The price in human life is too great."

Well, it wasn't the reason he'd wanted to hear, but it was the reason he'd expected. His son's change of heart wasn't so much a realization of futility, but an observance of necessity, a necessity to keep the mortals around him safe. The recognition brought a chagrined sigh from LaCroix. He would happily take the change regardless of the reasoning behind it. He'd waited too long for this to happen to quibble over trifles. Still, he couldn't help but ask. "So you're giving up your search for a cure in order to shield humanity from yourself, from your evil?"

Spinning around from the fireplace, Nicholas pinned his father with a granite stare. "I'm giving up my search because it's an idiotic fantasy. One that I'm weary of chasing. All I need from mortals now is their blood." He raised the bottle slightly in an indication.

LaCroix smiled. Nicholas certainly knew what his creator wanted to hear. But they both knew that it wasn't entirely true. Nicholas' decision hadn't been as cold and calculating as he wanted it to sound. Lucien knew his son was still, even at this very moment, struggling with his decision. The hardening of his heart was not yet complete, and his master wondered if it ever would be. And...did he really want it to be?

"So...you're part of the family again? You'll be leaving this life behind, I suppose? Getting away from the painful reminders?" LaCroix joined his son at the fireplace.

The boy's cold stare fell to the floor as an uncertain nervousness seemed to come over him. Another quick drink, and Nicholas turned back to look into the lifeless hearth. "Ah...no, not right away. I had planned on leaving tonight, but I've made a promise, and I intend to keep it."

Closing his eyes, LaCroix took a mental deep breath. Here it was...the catch. With Nicholas, there always seemed to be a catch. Concentrating his gaze on his son once again, he questioned, "A promise?"

The protege nodded, but continued to look into the fireplace. "To Natalie. I told her that I would give her one month. That I would stay in Toronto, be Nicholas Knight, for one more month."

This time Lucien's sigh was anything but silent. The lovely Doctor Lambert. He should have known. He loathed to admit it, but she had a hold over his creation almost as powerful as his own. His dealings with her had been few, but each time he had experienced her strength and her deep love for Nicholas. The combination presented a formidable obstacle, an obstacle that he had yet to overcome. He admired her strength and understood her love, but he couldn't be happy about her interference. And she was interfering again. She just didn't know when to leave well enough alone. It would be hard for her to finally admit defeat.

"Nicholas. Nicholas." LaCroix shook his head in disappointment.

"What?" The protege's eyes challenged his master while a defensive posture squared his shoulders.

"You know 'what'. Do I really have to say it? If you're going to leave, you need to make a quick, clean break. You know as well as I do that it's the best way. The only way. This hesitation will result in nothing but more pain."

Although Nicholas' leaving did not sit well with LaCroix, he knew it would be for the best. Getting the boy away from the weakening influence of Doctor Lambert would go a long way toward reinforcing his decision to return to his true nature. And anyway, the separation wouldn't be for very long. Lucien would be able to put an end to things here fairly quickly and join his protege wherever he decided to go.

"I- Well, none of that matters now. It's too late. I've made the promise, and I'm going to keep it."

The aggressive tone of Nicholas' voice told LaCroix not to pursue the matter any further. His son's decision had been ill-advised, but it was obvious the boy was determined to see it through. Still, he felt compelled to address the unspoken reason for his child's hesitation. "You owe her nothing, Nicholas. Nothing. Neither do you owe the Simmons' anything. Simply walk away, Nicholas. It's the best thing to do for everyone involved."

"I can't, not now." A cynical smirk lifted a corner of the boy's mouth. "Besides...what could happen in one month? It's less than an eye blink to us. When it's over, I know what I have to do."

"And in this blink of an eye, what will the good doctor be pushing your way? More protein drinks? An increase in your garlic intake perhaps?" An impatient skepticism crept into LaCroix's voice with the questions.

"No. Nothing like that. I promised her I would stay, nothing more. I no longer have any desire to suffer through the experiments. I am a vampire." Nicholas raised the blood to his lips and finished it. "This," again, he indicated the bottle, "is all I need, all I want."

"Indeed. You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that, Nicholas. Welcome back...my son." A cautious delight slid over the Roman as he watched his son bow his head in acceptance.

"Thank you...Father." Although very low and quiet, Nicholas' response echoed loudly in LaCroix's ears. Father. He had heard right. He wasn't imagining it. Father. Having himself referred to in such a way by his favorite, wayward creation sent another jolt of excitement darting over him. But along with the excitement came a settling tranquility, an odd sort of completion. The gap in his existence that he had been trying to repair for so many hundreds of years was suddenly gone, mended in an instant by the acceptance of his beloved child, by one uttered word. Father.

"Well..." Nicholas broke the intense stare of his master, and gazed down at the empty bottle in his hand. LaCroix sensed that he was not yet totally comfortable with his change of heart or the renewed closeness it afforded him and his maker. Lucien would not push. He would give his son all the time and space he needed to get used to the idea of his return to his family. Well, within reason that is. He would have to keep a watchful eye on Doctor Lambert. She could not be allowed to interfere, not now, not when they were so close.

"I've got-" Nicholas faltered as he turned toward the kitchen. "I've got to...go."

LaCroix's brows knitted together in a deep frown as he read the sudden wave of guilt and fear that washed over his creation. The boy's state of mind was a rollercoaster of contradictions at the moment. One minute he was strong and determined in his decision to leave mortality behind. The next, he was full of uncertainty about the step he was about to take. And with that uncertainty came a renewed sympathy for the life he was leaving behind, for the mortals he was leaving behind.

A tiny warning bell sounded somewhere in the back of LaCroix's mind. He hoped Nicholas would settle into his choice soon. The dispute still raging in his protege's conscience left room for turning back. His jaw tightened with the thought. There would be no turning back, there couldn't be. If only Nicholas would leave now instead of hovering in the influence of Doctor Lambert for the next thirty days. He wasn't strong enough yet. It was dangerous.

"Nicholas?" Lucien pushed aside the troubling speculations, and placed a gentle hand on his son's arm.

Lifting haunted eyes to his maker, the boy shook his head. "It's nothing. There's just something I have to do."

"Something?" LaCroix's question held a subtle note of suspicion as he asked for a clarification. He got the impression this 'something' was a task he wasn't going to want to hear about.

The suspicious tone of his master's voice didn't appear to be lost on Nicholas. With some visible effort, he worked to overcome the sorrow, and a hardened determination entered his eyes. He appeared to thrust the paralyzing emotion, and the weakness that accompanied it, back into hiding. But he didn't fool his maker. The feelings continued to pull at the boy as he answered his father. "I have to see Jacob and Beth."

"Hmmm...the child's parents." The quiet recognition was tainted with disappointment. LaCroix had hoped his son would leave the grieving couple alone, although he knew Nicholas' overly active sense of compassion would insist on his supportive attention to the despondent mortals. His other victims. Or so Nicholas believed. LaCroix wasn't sure if this little confrontation would help or hinder his creation's decision to retreat from humanity. Seeing the couple could either draw Nicholas closer with a need to comfort them, or push him away with a heightened desire to escape the guilt he felt for their loss. Either way, Lucien knew he couldn't stop the boy from doing what he felt had to be done. And still, even as LaCroix rejoiced in his son's return, he couldn't quite bring himself to celebrate the action that had caused the return. And because of this, he couldn't completely dismiss Nicholas' need to see the mortals. Nor could he allow the boy to continue to carry the blame for the child's death. "Elliot's death was not your fault, Nicholas."

Tortured blue eyes fell shut at the mention of the child's name, Nicholas' lips forming a thin, harsh line of pain. Again, grief rose along their link. But almost as quickly as the sorrow resurfaced, a fierce battle by his creation stifled it. Nicholas was trying to get a handle on his emotions, to solidify his still pliable heart. He was trying, but he was having one hell of a difficult time.

"Please, LaCroix." The boy's eyes sprang open. "I don't want to discuss it." Stalking into the kitchen, he tossed away the empty bottle and retrieved another one from the refrigerator. Pulling the cork, he raised the bottle to his lips, but before taking a drink, he cast cold eyes on his father. "I know what I've done." And with those damning words, he greedily guzzled the human blood.

A worried scowl turned LaCroix's mouth. Nicholas' infinitely wide stubborn streak never ceased to infuriate him. Lucien watched his son drink the blood, and knew that no amount of persuasion on his part would change Nicholas' steadfast belief in his guilt in the child's death. Perhaps after the anguish had had time to cool he would see things more clearly, but LaCroix wasn't sure that, even with time, the boy would let go of the guilt. And that was not good. If Nicholas continued to cling to this debilitating, misplaced self-hatred, nothing will have been accomplished. There would be no change, no freedom. Even as he lived as a vampire, he would still be imprisoned by the shackles of shame and condemnation he placed upon himself. He had to shake them off, get rid of them, destroy them. Shaking his head, LaCroix finally spoke. "You've done nothing, Nicholas. Nothing."

Taking the bottle from his lips, the boy spat, "Oh? And isn't that a crime in and of itself?"

Lucien's patience was reaching its end, a short, exasperated sigh leaving him as he joined his son in the kitchen. "You tried, Nicholas. You tried to save the boy."

"But I failed!" The angry reproach shot from the protege in the form of a thunderous growl. Almost immediately, he seemed to catch himself and, pausing, took a deep breath. After a second or two, he appeared to get control of his sudden rage and turned steady, cool eyes to his maker. "And now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get cleaned up." Placing the half-empty bottle back in the refrigerator, Nicholas turned toward the stairs. Hesitating, he once again faced his father. "Thank you for the...supplies, LaCroix. I- Thank you."

"A father knows when his children are in need, Nicholas. He is compelled to fill that need if it is something he feels is best for them."

LaCroix watched with an anxious, unfamiliar flutter in the pit of his stomach as his child climbed the stairs. The genuine gratitude from Nicholas pleased him no end, while the boy's self-destructive attitude strengthened his reservations. The storm of contradiction continued to rage in his offspring's heart and mind. Lucien could only hope that the turmoil would ease quickly and that Nicholas would remain unwavering in his decision. His earlier caution had been well heeded. His son's return was by no means set in stone. There was still a little work to be done.

End Chapter 18


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

He hesitated at the door, his finger hovering over the doorbell but unable to make the one, small movement needed to bring him face to face with the people whose lives he'd destroyed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the porch swing moving softly in the chilling breeze. Turning his head to look at it, he remembered the blissful scene he'd pictured there only a few months ago. But the image of the happy family sharing a glass of lemonade on a warm summer evening was gone. All he saw now was the hard, cold wood beaten into submission by the harsh weather it had endured throughout the years. He thought how like the swing he felt at this moment, beaten into submission by the harsh reality of what he was and the pain he caused others.

Closing his eyes, he turned away from the bleak reality. When he moved, the finger on the doorbell found the strength to summon the mortals inside the house. As he heard the ring, the frigid hand of dread reached out and clutched his heart. He felt the panic rise. How was he going to face them?

Nick heard the hushed voices from inside drift into silence when the sound of the bell echoed through the house. Heavy footsteps followed, and in the next instant, he was confronted with the solemn face of Jacob Simmons-the hollow look of pain in the mortal's expression giving strength to the fog of guilt that lay cold and thick over Nick's mind.

Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes told him of the tears and lack of rest his friend had suffered through the last 24 hours. Drawn, pale features deepened the lines on Jacob's face. In the passage of a single day, it looked to Nick as if his friend had aged a decade or more. The haze of guilt grew darker with the recognition.

"Nick." The quiet greeting held a note of relief as Jacob opened the storm door and motioned for the detective to come inside.

He hesitated at the threshold a moment before beating back the sudden rush of fear and entering the house. He watched as Jacob closed the door and turned back around. The professor seemed unsure of his next move as he captured his guest's eyes with his own. "Thanks...thanks for coming, Nick." Moisture started to pool in the hazel orbs. "I-" A drop slipped from an eye. "I-" As if unable to maintain the facade of bravery another second, he closed his eyes against the pain, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Oh God..." he whispered.

Nick froze, paralyzed by the anguish he saw before him, knowing that he was the cause of it, hating that he was the cause of it. The urge to run pulled fiercely at him as he stared at Jacob's devastated features, but the need to try and ease the pain he'd caused also pressed heavily on him.

_Coming here was a mistake._ Nick groaned inwardly. Who did he think he was kidding? He couldn't ease his friend's suffering. All he could do was compound it, make it worse. He was a walking misery factory. Walking away was the only way to save these people.

But even as he berated himself, Nick couldn't completely bury the desire to comfort his friend. When he spoke, his voice sounded as if it came from some place far off in the distance, the low, mournful tone echoing in his ears. "Jacob- I- I'm so sorry."

The heartfelt words of apology appeared to snatch the professor from his own sorrow, and focus him on Nick's. Opening his eyes, he closed the gap between them and put consoling arms around his friend.

Nick tensed with the unexpected contact. He was too close. He was allowing himself to be drawn in again. He couldn't let it happen. He was moving away. He had to remember that. For everyone's sake, there had to be distance. There had to be.

He fought to keep his arms at his sides as the warmth of his friend seeped into his body and mind. Within a few ticks of the clock, however, the battle was lost, and Nick gave into both his and Jacob's needs. Returning the embrace, the guilt-ridden vampire once again asked for mercy. "Please forgive me. Please."

"Forgive you?" The tearful words were laced with confusion. Uncertainty was also reflected in Jacob's eyes as he pulled back from Nick and searched the detective's face. "Forgive you for what, Nick? I told you before, on the phone. This wasn't your fault." The hands still resting on the vampire's upper arms gave a reassuring squeeze. "You did all that you could to try and find him. There's nothing to forgive."

The ever-present desire to run came flooding back when Nick looked into the sad, trusting face of Jacob, a sadness he'd put there, a trust he didn't deserve. He would never be able to explain what he'd done, never be able to truly ask for his friend's absolution. For as long as he was here, in this life, the deception would have to continue. The distance would have to be increased. His heart would have to be hardened.

The next thirty days suddenly stretched for millennia before him. He had to somehow get through it, even as his loyalties and needs pulled him in opposite directions. He had to try and focus. Everyone would be better off when he returned to his immortal family. Everyone. He had to be strong.

"I-" The lie caught in Nick's throat. "I know, Jacob. You're right."

"Nick?" A soft voice chimed from behind him, and Nick turned to see Elizabeth walk into the tiny foyer.

Like her husband, she was pale, evidence of the horror of the past day etched deeply in the somber frown hovering around her mouth. When Nick met her sad brown eyes, the pain of familiarity sliced through him as he was cruelly reminded of the sight of those same beautiful eyes staring up at him in the vacancy of death. But as he searched the haunting brown pools, he was surprised to see a spark of resolve, a flame of survival, living there. As expected, there was an acute grief, but there was also a light of strength, an unwillingness to surrender to the desolation, a conviction to fight the devastation.

And when Nick recognized these things, he couldn't help but envy her courage, her strength. He knew there would be many days of sorrow ahead for her, but he also knew that she would make it, that she would suffer through and survive. But, Nick thought of Jacob's tears a few moments earlier, would her husband? And for that matter, would he himself have the courage to get through this?

"Beth-" Other than another plea for forgiveness, Nick couldn't think of anything else to say. Instead of trying to find the proper words, he moved to stand in front of Elizabeth, and, with a second's hesitation, drew her into a comforting hug. He felt her arms go around his waist as she rested her head on his chest. He didn't hear any tears, and they stood quietly for at least a minute sharing their sorrow in the silence.

Elizabeth was the first to disturb the stillness when she raised her head and looked into Nick's face, a sad smile lifting her lips. "Thank you for being here. It means so much."

Again, the unforgiving savagery of the guilt pounded at Nick's conscience, the bitter voice of reproach taunting him. _What it means is that you're a hypocrite. If not for you, and the evil that surrounds you, you wouldn't have to be here at all. There wouldn't be any pain to comfort, any loss to console._

Loss.

_Elliot._ The name echoed in Nick's head.

Shutting his eyes to the tender expression on Beth's face, he battled the crippling condemnation of the insolent voice, the truth of it shredding the delicate fiber of his composure. The anger and tears surged forward in a forceful rush. He struggled violently to quiet them. The anger was only for himself, not to be thrust upon these already tormented mortals. And while the tears were for his human friends, the unnatural color of the tokens of sorrow could never be seen by the grieving parents. The scarlet droplets were a sign of his inhumanity, a clue to his affliction, a look at his black soul, evidence of his overwhelming evil. He would at least spare Jacob and Beth that hideous sight.

A light touch on Nick's arm prompted him to open his eyes. The gentle hand belonged to Jacob who had moved, and was now standing next to his wife, his voice still husky with tears when he spoke. "Come on, Nick. Give me your coat and we'll go into the living room."

As he slipped out of the long garment and handed it to the professor, his attention was caught by the sound of additional heartbeats in the house. When he was escorted into the small, cozy living room, he was confronted by two more mortals. They appeared to be in their late fifties or early sixties. Nick guessed them to be grandparents.

The woman was seated on the couch while the man stood staring into the fire burning in the hearth. The immortal wasn't sure whose parents they were until the woman looked up to register his entrance into the room. Disturbingly familiar brown eyes questioned his presence, and Nick knew in an instant that the couple was Beth's mother and father come to offer support, share their grief and attend their grandson's funeral.

Funeral. Nick hadn't allowed himself to think about the last ceremony of a mortal's existence. The idea of watching young Elliot being put into the ground was... It was...

"Nick, this is my mother, Edna Gardner." Elizabeth's introduction cut short his unbearable thoughts. "And my father, Paul. Mom, Dad, this is Nick Knight, a very good friend of ours."

Paul Gardner stepped forward and offered his hand in greeting. He was a very tall man. Nick put him at about 6'2" or 6'3". He was slender, and looked to be quite athletic underneath the dark blue sweater and black slacks he wore. His head was covered with a healthy mass of light-brown hair that distinguished him by showing a generous amount of gray at the temples. Solemn blue eyes caught Nick's as his and the mortal's hands met in a friendly shake. "A pleasure, Mr. Knight. We've heard a lot about you." He paused a moment as a deep frown shifted the mask on his face. "Elliot...Elliot told us all about his friend Nick, the police detective."

Nick's grip on Gardner's hand tightened when he heard him say the boy's name. Up until that moment, it had been as if everyone, including himself, had been reluctant to speak the name aloud for fear of somehow making the pain more intolerable than it already was. But Paul Gardner seemed to come to terms with the necessity of facing the fear in his second of hesitation.

His wife, however, didn't appear as prepared for the reference. As Nick loosened his grip on her husband's hand, preparing to release it, Edna Gardner let out a soft moan of distress. The immortal looked over at her in time to see her close her eyes against the raw pain, and slowly shake her head while the tears spilled down her cheeks.

Paul quickly released Nick and went to his wife. Sitting beside her on the couch, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, whispering gently to her. "I know, dear. I know."

Nick watched the anguish of two more mortals play out before him and felt the guilt rip a little deeper into his mind. He'd done this. He'd caused this torture. He was the one who'd torn their lives apart. What could he say? What could he do to make it easier?

_Nothing. Nothing but leave them alone._ The voice spat back at him.

"Mom." Elizabeth's quiet plea pulled Nick's attention away from his unrelenting conscience. He looked on through tormented eyes as Beth joined her parents on the couch and put tender arms around her mother. A tarnished stillness followed while Edna Gardner allowed her grief to flow freely with the tears that seemed never-ending. But, after a few moments, the older woman pulled away from the support of her daughter and husband, and appeared to find the strength to stem the tide, for now. Her bloodshot eyes looked up at Nick before quickly dropping to the floor. With a shaky, self-conscious hand, she reached up to wipe away the tears on her face. Taking a handkerchief from his pants' pocket, Paul handed it to his wife. She took it and continued to dry her face as she spoke. "I'm sorry. I just can't... I can't..."

"Shhh...it's all right, Edna. It's all right." Paul Gardner tried to console his wife.

Nick stood rooted in place, but the desire to escape throbbed in the back of his mind. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. How much more of this destruction he could witness.

"How-" Jacob's broken voice sounded from the doorway. "How 'bout I make us some coffee? I make the best home-brew in all of Toronto." A half-hearted smile skirted across his mouth as he attempted to lighten the moment.

The professor's eyes met those of his mother-in-law. She returned the quick smile and nodded.

With an answering nod, Jacob disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

"Please, Nick, have a seat." Beth motioned toward the faded, wingback chair sitting next to the fireplace.

Knight fought to overcome the stifling urge to retreat as he blinked, the tight fists at his sides turning into white-knuckled conviction. His eyes focused on Elizabeth's gentle expression, and the tenderness he saw there soothed a little of the returning panic. As he gazed into Beth's soft eyes, he felt some of the tension leave his hands. From somewhere, he didn't have any idea where, Nick conjured up the will to once again crush the impulse to run. Turning, he took the offered chair, his muscles still stiff with the storm that raged inside him.

The next few moments passed in a smothered silence as Mrs. Gardner continued to try and pull herself together, her sorrow, like a stale perfume, hanging heavily in the air.

"So..." Paul Gardner flashed Nick an uninspired smile as he tried to start a subject-altering conversation. "Are you a native of Toronto, Mr. Knight?"

"Nick, please." The vampire quickly returned the smile. "No. I've been here about six years."

"Oh?" Paul's eyebrows lifted in subdued surprise. "Not in town too long, eh? Where are you from?"

"Here and there. Nowhere in particular." Nick's answer was blatantly evasive, but that's all he was going to say on the matter.

A confused crease knitted Gardner's brow, but he seemed to quickly shake off the vague response and tried again. "Where were you before Toronto?"

"Chicago."

"Chicago?" Gardner repeated. "Great city. I've visited there many times over the years. So, you were a policeman there too?"

Nick nodded. He had no desire to sit through a third degree, but if it would keep things settled, he would endure the questioning as best he could.

"And you're a detective in the Toronto department. Homicide, right?"

"Yes."

"Well," the bitter voice of Edna Gardner interrupted the polite, useless conversation. "Have you learned anything, Detective?"

The force with which the accusing question shot from the older woman caught Nick off guard. She didn't strike him as a very aggressive person, but then grief did strange things to people. As he stared at her, he saw an angry spark flare in her brown eye as the rage began to seep through the debilitating sadness.

"Do the police know anything about the monster who took my grandson's life? Do they have any leads on the fiend who stole Elliot from us? Any idea who the ghoul is that would cut a little boy's throat?"

The last question was very close to a hysterical scream as Edna Gardner all but jumped to her feet, the hand holding her husband's handkerchief shaking in the air with her fury.

The emotional outburst rammed headlong into Nick like a runaway locomotive, his entire body tensing with the impact. Monster, fiend, ghoul. Yes, those were all accurate descriptions of what had taken Elliot from her; accurate descriptions of what, unbeknownst to Mrs. Gardner, sat right here in her midst.

The nauseating guilt churned in Nick's gut. What could he tell her of the creature that had murdered her precious grandchild? What could he tell any of them? His silence would be one more cruelty visited upon them. They would never know the satisfaction of seeing the guilty punished. There would be no sense of justice or vindication when the killer was caught and made to pay for what he'd done. There would only be a dark, empty void-forever waiting, forever wondering. He would never be able to tell them that their loved one's killers had paid for their crime, one paying with his life while the other paid with what was left of his soul. It was one more agony Nick would be forced to bear, the responsibility for the mortals' painful frustration.

_Oh, God._ What could he say? What could he possibly say? Nick's jaw tightened as he wrestled with the overwhelming guilt. She was venting her anger in the right direction, but that was also something Nick would never be able to admit. The need to escape came flooding back as he confronted the condemning passion in Edna Gardner's eyes.

"Mom?" Beth, a shocked frown on her face, stood. Putting an arm around her mother's shoulders, she tried to calm her down. "Mom, please." Elizabeth's voice faltered a moment as her own raw emotions came back to the surface. "They're doing all they can."

"Edna, please, take it easy," Paul stood next to his wife.

At that moment, Jacob appeared in the doorway, tray in hand. "Well, here we-" The announcement died in his throat as all eyes turned in his direction. The strain in the room was nothing short of a physical entity holding everyone in its unrelenting grip. As Nick looked at Jacob, it was obvious the mortal had been strangled by the tension the moment he'd returned. The vampire watched the professor's smile fade into startled confusion, a perplexed frown turning his mouth.

"What's- Is everything okay?" Jacob stammered as he walked into the room, his eyes darting to each occupant before he set the tray on the coffee table. Straightening, he looked back at his wife. "Beth?"

"Everything's fine, Jacob," Edna answered for her daughter before taking a deep breath. "I- I'm letting my grief get the better of me." Her attention focused on Nick. "I'm sorry, Detective. I didn't mean to fly off the handle like that. I know the police are doing all they can."

Nick tried to concentrate as the walls closed in around him. Why was he here? What did he think he could do for these people?

Shaking his head, he attempted to pull himself away from the edge of despair, and pay attention to what was being said to him. Meeting Edna's eyes, his effort at a reassuring smile was an utter failure as he finally found his voice. "No...no need to apologize, Mrs. Gardner. I understand."

_More than you could possibly know_, he added silently.

With a mystified frown still etched on his face, Jacob started to pour the coffee.

The three mortals standing by the couch took their seats again as Nick rose from his chair, the need to escape finally overcoming his weakened resolve. "I'm sorry, but I've got to leave. I have to get to work." He knew Reese probably didn't expect him at the precinct tonight after what had happened, but the vampire couldn't sit by calmly and watch his friends sip their coffee in tactful agony knowing he was the cause of that agony. He'd seen too much already.

_No_, he quietly corrected himself. That was a lie. It wasn't that he'd seen too much, but that he hadn't seen nearly enough. A chilly shard of fear pierced the back of his mind. There would be so much more to come, so much more he should have to face. This was what he'd sown, this suffering. He'd planted the seed of misery. He'd planted it the night he'd agreed to be a guest in Jacob's home. He'd nurtured it every time he made contact with the mortal and his family, feeding it with the misguided belief that he could be a part of their lives. Now the fruits of his hideous labor towered before him, and he was too frightened to confront them. No, he hadn't seen nearly enough, but he'd already seen more than he could stomach. This was part of his punishment, his penance, but he was too weak to face it, too much of a coward.

"Nick?" Elizabeth's hurt eyes focused on the detective, the disturbing sight battering his conscience.

"Mr. Knight, please," Edna spoke. "If what I've said..."

"No, Mrs. Gardner," Nick tried to reassure her, the lie coming a little more easily than he would have liked. "It's not that...really. I have to get to the precinct and...well, I think I should leave you all alone for a while. I should have waited before I came. A family needs some time to themselves."

At least the last part was true.

"Now, Nick, you're a part of this family." The professor swallowed hard as if fighting back more tears. "Elliot-"

"No!" Nick's impassioned denial startled everyone in the room, including himself. He hadn't meant to react so harshly, but Jacob's encouraging words only served to rip further into Nick's already shredded resolve. He could never be part of this family, part of this world. He came from a darker place, an inhuman place. Taking a deep breath to try and steady himself, the immortal slowly shook his head.

"No, Jacob. I really should go. Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, it was a pleasure meeting you." Bowing his head to both the parents, Nick walked into the foyer and pulled on his coat.

Moving to the door, he heard someone else enter the small space. Elizabeth. He knew it before he turned around.

She stood silently for a moment, the fingers of her hands threaded through one another as they hung limply in front of her. She gazed intently at him, and he found it impossible to look directly into the warm, brown depths. There was too much pain there. But more than that, there was too much sympathy there. Sympathy for him. Sympathy that he didn't deserve. Sympathy born of innocence. If she knew what he was and what he'd done, there would be no tender feeling, no sympathy. She would hate him for the monster he was, and rightly so. He deserved no more.

"This wasn't your fault, Nick." The words left Beth in a hushed plea.

He heard them resound in his head as he looked into Elizabeth's face. 'This wasn't your fault...' How many times had Natalie said it this morning at the loft? He couldn't remember. How many times had Jacob told him the same thing? He didn't know. How many times would he have to hear it before he started to believe it? He didn't think he could count that high. He would never believe this tragedy was not of his making. Never.

"You did all you could to find him." Beth's voice cracked with her brimming tears. "Please don't blame yourself."

Nick closed his eyes against the pain, and against the understanding he saw in the woman standing before him. Tears beckoned again, but he pushed them back.

"Nick."

He opened his eyes to find Elizabeth standing directly in front of him, no more than a foot away. A worried empathy still shone on her face as she reached out to put a comforting hand on his arm. She appeared to be struggling with her next words, opening her mouth only to quickly close it again. "The funeral-" After another second or two of hesitation, she spat out the words as if they were a poison she had to purge from her body. Tears still misted her eyes, one spilling down her cheek as she continued. "The funeral...is going to be day after tomorrow." She sighed as another tear journeyed down her face. "It's during the day so I know you won't be able to come, but- I- We're having a small...gathering at the...funeral home tomorrow night. I hope you'll come."

Funeral. The funeral. The final ceremony loomed before him like some all-encompassing, black storm cloud, a storm which had the power to tear him apart, to shred what little composure he had left. Elliot in a coffin. Elliot placed in the cold, hard ground. The guilt continued to pummel his badly battered resolve. He couldn't... He just couldn't... _Oh, God. Elliot._

Nick's eyes had never left Beth's face, and the sorrow that stared back at him was a brutal reminder of what the idea of the funeral was doing to her. What the result of his failure to act was doing to her. With a low, agonizing groan, he pulled Beth to him and hugged her tight. He felt her arms go around his waist as she returned the embrace. Much like when he arrived, they stood together for several seconds. Only this time, Nick endured the sound of his friend's pain as she allowed the tears to flow freely. The gentle crying tore through his heart and, after a short while, it was more than he could bear. Pulling her tighter, he whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry, Beth. Please forgive me. Please forgive me."

Unable to look at her again, Nick released the grieving mother and quickly turned to the door. Without another word, he made his escape. As he ran to the Caddy, he ignored Elizabeth's tearful plea as she called his name.

End Chapter 19


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Snowflakes dance in the glow of the street light, the cold wind tossing the white crystals around like icy feathers before they found their way to the ground. The winter diamonds sparkled brilliantly against the background of the smoky, black sky, and Nick marveled at their beauty. It was a simple pleasure-watching the snowfall.

He sighed. Simple seemed to be the only thing he could handle these days. He ran from the hard things, the painful things. Witnessing Beth and Jacob's grief had been too hard, too painful. Was he really such a coward?

Nick closed his eyes to the picturesque winter scene before him as his hands tightened on the steering wheel of the Caddy. He could see himself as one of those frosty flakes of ice, tossed about in this gust of tragedy, unsure which direction he would go, where he would land.

_No._ He shook his head, a numb resolve guiding his thoughts. He knew where he would land, where he had to land. He would settle with his family, his immortal family. There was no other choice if he was to spare the humans around him, no other choice at all.

Opening his eyes, he looked over at the precinct building. He didn't know why he'd come here. He certainly didn't want to face the sad, pitying looks he was going to get from his co-workers. More sympathy for the undeserving. He supposed he'd come because of Beth and Jacob. He wanted one less thing he'd told them to be a lie. It seemed silly, trivial really, but he'd said he was going to work, so here he was. But... A bitter smile lifted the corners of his mouth. In the scheme of all that he'd done, what difference did it make?

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for what awaited him inside. He got out of the Caddy and made his way into the building.

The normal hustle and bustle of the squad room dropped to a guarded whisper when Nick pushed through the swinging gate. He faltered a moment as he hit the wall of concern, a tiny spark of discomfort moving over him. There was no spotlight pointed on him, but there may as well have been. He stifled a groan. Scanning the room, he confronted a sea of faces. Faces with compassionate, doleful eyes, and pitiful, understanding smiles. It was a sight he'd tried to prepare himself for, but it still made the 'unworthy' knife slice through his mind. Returning the sad smiles with one of his own, he lowered his eyes and walked over to his desk. Tracy was there, and as he stopped to stand behind his chair, he noticed Captain Reese coming out of his office.

Before walking through his office door, Joe quickly glanced out the window. Snow. It was snowing again. They were getting an unusual amount of the white stuff early this year. Granted, it wasn't sticking around, but if it was cold enough for snow in November, they were in for a long winter. An uncomfortable shudder slid down Joe's back as he turned and surveyed the squad room.

_What the hell?_ the captain wondered silently as he saw Nick Knight standing by his desk. Even though the detective hadn't officially asked for the night off, this was the last place Reese had expected to find him. Joe, like a lot of people in the precinct, knew how special Elliot Simmons had been to Nick. The boy's death had to be tearing him apart.

Reese's jaw clenched as the thought of the dead child brought a fierce sympathy to the surface. Nick was strong, but just how strong, Joe didn't know. Knight had recently lost two close friends. How much more grief could he take? Oh, Nick would make it through. The captain was fairly sure of that. Most people found some way of overcoming tragedy. But what kind of man would be left in the wake of all the loss? It was a question that pecked at the back of Joe's mind. He wasn't sure how heavy a toll Elliot's murder would take on Nick. The senseless death of a child had to be one of the greatest miseries the captain could imagine.

Joe's sympathy for Nick abruptly gave way to a white rage, a picture of the small body appearing in his mind's eye. His hands formed tight fists at his sides as the disgust churned his already upset stomach. Another child murdered.

_Damn! _

They'd caught one killer, and now were faced with another. He wanted to find the bastard, but he had a sick feeling about this case. They had absolutely nothing to go on. All they had was the report of an agonizing scream coming from the building where they'd found the child's body. The couple that had heard it said it couldn't have come from the boy. The sound had been too deep, too heart-wrenching, to come from a young child. A cynical smirk pulled at Joe's lips. Evidently, the sound had been so guttural the couple had doubted for a few moments that it had even been human.

Of course, neither one of them had seen anything. Unfortunately, no one they'd talked to so far had seen anything. Forensics had found several prints in the room, but none were identifiable. The boy's throat had been cut, but there wasn't any blood at the scene. Natalie said the body had been moved. So, Elliot had been brought to the abandoned building after the murder. They had no idea where the killing had taken place. Everywhere Joe looked, he saw a dead end. It made his blood boil.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm the sudden anger. Nick didn't need to see his frustration. Joe was sure the detective was feeling plenty of his own. Captain Reese walked over to Knight and Vetter just in time to hear Tracy express her empathy. "I-" The young detective's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she swallowed hard and continued. "I'm so sorry, Nick."

Reese watched Knight's body tense with the words, almost as if he were rejecting the comfort Tracy tried to offer him. His mouth formed a harsh line as he nodded. "Thanks, Trace."

A cold hand closed over the captain's heart as he took a closer look at Nick. The handsome detective looked like hell. He stood hunched over with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his long coat, looking for all the world as if he were protecting himself from another blow, as if the powers-that-be were standing somewhere nearby ready to give him one more swift kick in the gut. The defeated posture was unfamiliar to Joe, and his concern for Knight began to burn a little brighter.

Reese's inspection moved to Nick's face. The harsh set of his mouth was reflected in the frown that creased his brow. His normally pale complexion was totally devoid of color, save for the dusky shadows that lurked under sad eyes, eyes that nearly drew a pained groan from Joe. He couldn't remember ever seeing such complete desolation. The intense suffering that clouded the blue depths told the captain more than any words could possibly express.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Joe finally found his voice. "Nick...what are you doing here? I didn't expect you to come in tonight. In fact, I think it would be a good idea if you took a few days off."

Recalling the detective's attitude after Schanke and Cohen's deaths, Joe really didn't think Knight would be able to leave well enough alone, not if Elliot's killer was still out there somewhere. But, as with his two friends, Nick was too close to this case, and it would be best if he stepped back from it, for now.

"Cap, I-" Nick shook his head.

"No, Nick. You don't need to be here. You need some time...to...get a handle on things."

Joe watched the detective close his eyes and take a deep breath. He stood quietly for a few seconds, and, in that time, appeared to come to some sort of a decision. Reese was more than a little surprised when Knight opened his eyes and nodded.

"Okay, Cap. I guess you're right."

The argument Joe had been certain he would be forced to have with Detective Knight didn't materialize. And for a moment, he was dumbfounded by the realization. Nick wasn't going to protest? He wasn't going to object? Disbelief moved through Joe's mind. Knight wasn't going to fight him tooth and nail to stay and be part of the Simmons investigation. The disbelief was joined by a subtle disappointment. Had Nick had that much of the life knocked out of him by this hardship?

The captain's earlier concern increased yet again as he accepted Nick's answer. "Good." There wasn't as much satisfaction in his voice as he would have liked. He hesitated a moment. Looking back into Nick's solemn face, Joe felt the need to offer his support. "If you need anything, Nick, just ask."

"We'll get this guy, Nick." Tracy Vetter's voice was filled with an angry determination as she bit out the words.

As Joe gazed into Detective Vetter's somber face, he also saw that determination smoldering in her eyes. He hoped she was right. He prayed she was right.

"I-" Nick faltered, and his eyes dropped to the ground, his dark frown growing darker. "I know, Trace. Thanks." Lifting his gaze again, he looked from Tracy to Joe. "I guess I'll take off."

Reaching out, the captain gave Nick's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Like I said, anything I can do, just let me know." Reese wished there was something more he could say or do, but he knew there wasn't, aside from catching Elliot's killer.

"Thanks, Captain." Nick nodded as Joe released his arm. "You too, Trace."

With those words, Knight turned and walked out of the squad room. An unwanted heaviness descended over the captain's heart as he watched Nick leave. Something was missing, gone, stolen. Something inside Knight had died with Elliot. The light, the spark, of life. It had been snuffed out, smothered. A worried frown tugged at Reese's mouth. He hoped Nick would be able to find it again. He hoped the detective could find the strength to make it back to the land of the living. As he reached into his pocket for an antacid, Joe made a mental note to add one more prayer to his growing list. Detective Nicholas Knight was going to need all the help he could get.

End Chapter 20


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

She was nervous. She really didn't know why. She just was, that's all. The hands in her coat pockets worked the gloves she'd stuffed there only a few seconds ago, clenching and unclenching the soft wool. Yes, she was just a little nervous. But was her heart beating faster because of her nerves or her fear? Was there more to her fluttering pulse and fidgeting hands than simply raw, jumbled nerves?

Natalie took a deep breath as she looked at the elevator door. The noisy contraption seemed to be taking an awfully long time getting to the second floor. A cynical grin crossed her mouth. Maybe that was a good thing. Yes, there was fear. She loathed admitting it, but it was there, waiting to sabotage her determination, to hijack her resolve. It hovered like an ominous shadow in the corner of her mind, threatening to blanket her thoughts in a dark paralysis that would strangle her courage.

It was a fear of the battle that stretched before her. Was she up to the challenge? Did she have what it took to fight Nick's all-consuming guilt? Was she strong enough to pull him back from the lure of his former life? Could she make him believe in himself again? All these debilitating questions lurked in that dark corner of her mind, culminating in one overwhelming dread. Failure. It wasn't the battle itself that frightened her. She would fight with all she had to keep Nick in her life. But, in the end, would it be enough? She was marching toward another skirmish after losing the first one. Could she win the war? Would she be able to keep Nick here, with her, or would he walk out of her life forever?

_Damn it, no!_ Nat stubbornly shook her head. She wasn't going to think like that. This was a war she had to win. She had to.

The elevator finally stopped, and as the doors slid open, she squared her shoulders and prepared for the evening's confrontation. She tried to ignore the growling in her stomach as she stepped into the dimly-lit loft. She had decided to forfeit her lunch hour and come here. Elizabeth's phone call had her worried.

As she took stock of the dusky room, the eerie stillness almost fooled her. It might have deceived someone else. The place appeared to be empty, but it wasn't. He was here. She wasn't sure how, but she knew. Even through the unnatural quiet, or, perhaps, because of it, she could...feel him, sense him.

Walking farther into the room, Natalie removed her coat and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. Hesitating a moment, she listened. Nothing. The loft was as silent as a tomb. An icy ripple of dread lapped at her spine with the thought.

_Come on, Lambert!_ Nat silently tried to shake off the creeping apprehension. _Don't do this to yourself._

Closing her eyes, she gathered her strength. She wasn't going to give up on him without one hell of a fight. That fight started now.

Focusing on the couch, she started toward it. It was the easiest place to begin looking. She stopped to stand at the back of the long piece of furniture, and was startled to find piercing, blue eyes staring up at her.

As she looked down on him, the uneasy rhythm of Nat's heart fell into a more normal beat, her initial surprise dwindling. He lay on his back, one arm settled at his side while the other rested across his forehead. His mouth was drawn into a firm line that matched the rest of the granite mask he wore over his handsome features. There was a subtle cruelty in that mouth, and Natalie once again beat back the cloud of misgiving that endangered her conviction.

Her gaze moved back to his eyes, and she was again confronted with an unsettling harshness. But more disturbing than the stinging severity was the curtain of cool indifference that hung over the shadowy depths. The lazy, almost bored, look he gave her made her heart sink. The wall appeared to be back in place and stronger than ever. It loomed before her like some giant, medieval fortress.

_Well..._ Giving herself a mental shake, she grabbed tightly onto her determination. _Better get started._ The towering monstrosity was going to be tough to overcome. She didn't have much time.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Natalie walked around to the front of the couch. She stood at Nick's feet and noticed the nearly-empty bottle sitting on the coffee table, the white label standing out against the dark green glass, a grim reminder of what she was up against. Biting her tongue, she chose not to mention the human blood. She'd promised him she wouldn't push, and she wouldn't, yet.

"Hi, Nick." The cheerful note she had intended on injecting into the greeting didn't quite come through, but she held on to the smile.

"Nat." His mouth barely moved as he spoke, the cold eyes never leaving her face. "What brings you to the lion's den?"

The sensual menace tainting his voice sent a warm shudder through Natalie, and she cursed her body's irrational reaction to this vampire, this man. How could he frighten the daylights out of her and kindle a hungry longing at the same time? Her jaw tightened with the infuriating question. It was nuts. Was she really so fickle?

She continued to search Nick's steely face while his intimidating reference echoed in her head. Its significance wasn't lost on her, and another sliver of fear sliced through her mind. Would she one day become an offering to this exceptional being?

_Watch it, Lambert_, Nat chided herself. _You're slipping again._

Stifling the debilitating panic, Natalie refused to rise to the bait. "I just wanted to check on you. Beth called me about an hour into my shift. She told me about your visit earlier tonight. She tried getting a hold of you a couple of time with no luck. She's pretty worried about you, Nick."

A triumphant satisfaction spread over Nat as Nick's casual aloofness wavered slightly. Pain seeped back into his eyes while a pensive frown softened the sharp line of his mouth. The glimpse of his suffering drew a tender sympathy from Natalie, but she didn't regret seeing the sorrow. On the contrary, she needed to see it. She needed to know that the gentle, caring man she loved was still in there somewhere, and that she could reach him. To her relief, he wasn't lost to her, at least, not yet. The knowledge shored up her unsteady conviction.

"Well," Nick swung his feet off the couch and sat up, the rigid edge returning to his features as he grabbed the bottle from the table. The container hovered at his lips as he continued. "She should worry about herself and quit wasting her time on me. I don't want her concern. I don't need her pity." With the unpleasant statement, he made quick work of the blood remaining in the bottle.

His callous response hit Natalie like a violent hand across the face, so much so that she flinched when she heard it. Some of that newfound determination deserted her again as she digested the harsh words. She stood rooted in place by the unkind reaction as he finish the blood, a frown of dismay tugging at her mouth.

However, the stunned numbness only lasted a few seconds before the bristle of an impetuous anger crept over her. She looked on, wide-eyed, as Nick got up from the couch and took the bottle into the kitchen, depositing it in the trash and retrieving another one from the refrigerator.

Pulling the cork, he raised the new bottle to his lips. As Natalie viewed the insufferable move, and absorbed his easy indifference, her growing fury bubbled to the surface. In the next instant, she felt her own cork pop, the anger and intolerance spewing forth in a heated accusation. "Pity? How dare you!" Fists of rage formed at her sides before she strode into the kitchen. Stopping directly in front of Nick, she focused her incensed gaze on his bewildered face. He lowered the untouched bottle just as she forged ahead.

"Pity has nothing to do with it, and you know it! How dare you throw away someone's concern for you! A concern born of friendship and love! How dare you dismiss such precious feelings! How dare you!"

Natalie was shaking. She couldn't remember ever being so mad. Just who in the hell did he think he was, discarding Beth's feelings so brutally? She only wanted to help him, to offer him support. Why couldn't he see that?

The doctor's heart rate had once again jumped a level or two, her breaths coming in short, steady huffs over slightly parted lips. Small hands remained tense at her sides as she stared daggers at the vampire. She didn't care how guilty or undeserving he felt. He couldn't treat people like that. He couldn't treat...her...like that.

Some of Nat's anger cooled as she made the disturbing recognition. _Damn_, she condemned her weakness. She'd let him get to her, let it get to her-the hazy apprehension. And she hadn't even realized it. The tension left her hands. That ever-lurking fear of rejection, of failure, hadn't stayed banished to the shadows as she'd hoped. It had escaped its dark corner to fog her mind. Was her rage as much for Beth as it was for herself? A touch of heat prickled across Natalie's cheeks. _No_, she quietly admitted. The other woman wasn't foremost in her thoughts. The hurt hadn't surfaced this fiercely only because of Beth. The reason went deeper than that, hit closer to home.

A steadying sigh slowed Nat's breathing. Not only was Nick rejecting Elizabeth's feelings, but he was rejecting, belittling, hers as well. The idea sent another jolt of dread running through her. The cruelty was a dismal sign of defeat that Natalie's taut nerves just couldn't take. He wasn't giving her a chance. Even as she was gaining control of her sudden anger, the thought of Nick's willfulness sparked another flash of indignation. He had to listen. He had to try.

"And what if the feelings are misplaced?" The frosty words pulled Nat away from her upsetting reflections. Nick's puzzled expression disappeared only to be replaced by the now-familiar mask of stone. Her heart sank a little lower at the sight, her earlier triumph taking a subtle beating. He re-corked the blood and shoved it into the refrigerator. Leveling his eyes back on Natalie, he crossed his arms over his chest, his voice low and dangerous as he continued the questions. "What if the affection is given under false pretenses? Bestowed in ignorance? How precious is it then?"

The cold challenge in his eyes only served to stoke Natalie's as yet extinguished irritation. Straightening her back and standing as tall as her shorter frame would allow, she matched Nick's intolerable stubbornness with some of her own. If he wasn't going to back down, neither was she. Her voice mirrored that conviction. "Tender emotions are precious no matter what, Nick. They should never be taken for granted. Never. You're Beth's friend, and you're hurting. She knows all she needs to know."

"No!" Nick's impassioned response made Nat jump, but she didn't relinquish any ground as he continued. "She has no idea!" Running a rough hand through his hair, he stalked over to stand with his back to the fireplace, his stony facade showing sighs of wear. A thin shaft of encouragement brightened Natalie's spirit as the ice melted from his eyes, and the emotion, the pain, clouded them once again. His words, however, weren't as reassuring. "I'm the one who should be comforting her, supporting her and Jacob. Their son is dead, murdered. And I'm to blame."

"You're not!" The building frustration exploded from Natalie. God, was there a more obstinate man on earth? She didn't want to hear this. It wasn't true. How could she make him see? How could she get it into his thick head that it wasn't true?

"Yes, Nat." A cynical smile played across his lips and sparkled in his sad eyes as he contradicted her. Shaking his head, he turned to look into the glow of the fire, a bitter bark of laughter filling the air. "I went over there tonight to try and help, but I couldn't. I was a miserable failure. I came face to face with the destruction I'd caused and couldn't handle it."

"Nick, please. Their pain isn't your doing." Nat's anger and frustration collapsed under the helpless sympathy that washed over her as she heard the utter defeat in Nick's voice. The dread had returned too, and she tried to push it back into its dim corner. Tears welled up in her eyes as she joined him at the fireplace. Gazing at his profile, she watched a black shadow of anguish taint his expression. The need to pull him close hounded her as she suffered through more of his self-reproach.

"How does a murderer comfort his victims? How does he tell them he's sorry when they don't know he's responsible? When they can never know he's responsible?"

With the last sentence, Nick turned his head and looked at Natalie. The torture she witnessed in his face sent a hovering tear sliding down her cheek. _God, what can I do? What can I say to ease the ache?_

Swallowing hard, she reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "But..." She fought the growing sense of loss. She wouldn't, couldn't lose him to this chasm of guilt and sorrow. "But that's the whole point, Nick. You're not responsible."

A sad smile softened Nick's solemn features as he lifted a tender finger to Natalie's cheek and wiped away the tear. "I wish I could believe that."

His touch sent a shiver of longing shooting through Nat, and she couldn't stop herself from taking one step closer to him. "I wish you could too. Because it's the truth. You're not responsible for Elliot's death. Antonio Caproni is, no one else." One more step, the cool proximity of his body causing a sharp craving down deep inside her. His fingers rested softly on her face as her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Beth's caring isn't misplaced, Nick." Natalie's hand left his arm and cupped a stubble-roughened cheek. "And neither is mine."

She was lost, floating in the ocean of Nick's eyes as they stood in the charged silence. She watched with wonder as the torment gave way to a smoldering hunger that would consume her if she let it, but the sensual threat barely registered. At this moment in time, she didn't care if the need completely engulfed her. It was crazy, but she wanted to lose herself in the passion. She wanted to forget about the pain and misery, to abandon everything except the love and desire she held for this man. It would be so easy to just let go, to...

"Well, well, well. What a cozy little scene. Am I interrupting something, Nicholas?"

The all-too-familiar voice oozed with caustic sarcasm, and it hit Natalie like an icy bucket of water. Her startled eyes left Nick's to settle on LaCroix as he stood next to the couch, his arms smugly crossed over his chest. The casual disdain she read in his expression made her bristle. Her embarrassment, and she wasn't really sure that there was any, got lost in the surge of contempt that flowed through her.

Nick's hand slowly left Natalie's face, but he made no attempt to move away from her as he looked in LaCroix's direction. Nat couldn't help but draw a bold sort of comfort from the show of fortitude. Apparently, the older vampire's inopportune arrival hadn't intimidated him in the least.

Lowering her hand from Nick's cheek, she once more gazed at his handsome profile. There was no sign of shame, no sheepish look of being caught. All she saw was a settled calm, his chin raised slightly in what seemed to her a subtle defiance. Again, she felt the thrill of inspiration dart up her back as she recognized the attitude. LaCroix hadn't won, yet. There was still some fight in Nick. She just had to tap into it someway. But...how?

"No, LaCroix." Nick's deep, steady voice rumbled above Natalie's head. "You're not interrupting anything."

His attention moved back to Nat's face. The pain had returned to his eyes, but she was glad to see the rebellion sparkling there too. He flashed her a sad, yet somehow, reassuring smile before stepping back and putting a little distance between them.

"Good evening, Dr. Lambert. What an unexpected pleasure."

The patronizing tone crawled down Nat's spine as she faced the elder immortal. Anger boiled just beneath the surface, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. Two could play at this game.

"Is it?" Natalie was quietly pleased with the light, unconcerned note she heard in her voice.

"Why, yes." LaCroix stepped around the couch to stand next to the coffee table. "But I have to admit, under the circumstances, I thought you would have seen no reason to come here anymore."

His gracious smile did little to hide the dangerous gleam in his eyes. He was furious to find her here. A reverent stab of fear registered in Nat's head as he warned her away. She knew what a powerful creature she was going up against. She'd felt the amazing strength the last time they'd butted heads, during Nick's bout with amnesia. If he wanted to, LaCroix could snuff her out like a candle. Maybe he would before it was all said and done. But the stalwart need to attain her goal gave her the courage to look past the intimidating obstacle. Nick was what she wanted. She wouldn't shy away from the challenge of this formidable rival. She would fight him with everything she had.

Trying to ignore the foreboding chill radiating from LaCroix, Natalie straightened her shoulders and offered him a brave smile. "And what circumstances would those be?"

The intruder took another step toward the couple standing by the fireplace. "Well, Nicholas' recent decision, of course." The frigid menace became more palpable as he narrowed his clear, blue eyes, his soft voice suddenly barbed with the threat. "I can't see why he would require your...services any longer, can you?"

"Leave it alone, LaCroix."

Nick's defensive words rang in Nat's ears as she stared into the forbidding features of the master vampire. An uneasy flutter churned her stomach while a crippling doubt poisoned her mind. Could she really best this dynamic creature?

A satisfied smirk curved LaCroix's lips. "It seems as though the good doctor is the one having a difficult time leaving things alone. It would appear that she just doesn't know when she's been beaten."

"Stop it, LaCroix!"

Again, Nick's voice echoed in Natalie's ears. But something else, something alarming, reverberated in her head, loud and clear-beaten. 'She just doesn't know when she's been beaten.' The sheer gratification she read into those words yanked her back from the bleak pit of misgiving into which she'd just fallen. Beaten. _Oh, no._ She wasn't beaten, not by a long shot.

"It's okay, Nick." Nat's intense gaze never left LaCroix. "He's right." She watched a happy surprise lift his brow. "I don't know when I've been beaten. And from what I can see, I haven't been...yet." The delighted expression fell, and a sensation of victory surged through Natalie. "I guess you'll just have to put up with me for the next month, and hopefully, longer."

A malicious frown darkened LaCroix's face. "A pity."

The simple statement was loaded with venom, but Nat wasn't going to fall prey to it. Instead, she chose to look at it as another small victory. Casting LaCroix a sickly, sweet smile, she issued her own challenge. "I don't, I won't, admit defeat easily."

Not waiting to see the reaction to her words, Natalie looked quickly at her watch and then at Nick. A profound worry shrouded his eyes as he gazed at her, and seeing it gave her an odd sense of joy, knowing that he cared. "Well," she forced a contented sigh. She at least wanted to appear content even though the idea of leaving Nick alone with LaCroix was anything but pleasing. "My lunch hour's over. I'd better be getting back. Goodnight, LaCroix." She didn't bother looking at him. "Goodnight, Nick." Raising up on her toes, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek, knowing full well the display would further irritate their visitor.

Turning, she made her way into the kitchen. She could feel LaCroix's eyes burning a hole in her back, but she refused to look at him. Pulling on her coat, she walked to the elevator and pushed open the door. Flashing each of the vampires a smile, she left the loft.

"Good-bye, Doctor Lambert." LaCroix was seething, the words more of a curse than a farewell as he stared at the elevator door.

_Insufferable woman._

Lucien turned to look at Nicholas. His son's gaze was locked on the closed door, a troubled reverence lurking in his mournful eyes. LaCroix's frown deepened. He could feel the concern flowing across their link. But more annoying than the worry was the longing, the need, the...love he felt burning in Nicholas for the bothersome mortal.

The recognition should have surprised him, angered him, but it didn't. He'd suspected as much for a very long time. Maybe he'd known it all along. Even back on that fateful Valentine's day, he felt Nicholas had lied to him, telling him he had no feelings for the woman. Why he'd chosen to believe the boy's words instead of the fierce emotion that ran through him, LaCroix still wasn't sure.

Dr. Natalie Lambert was going to be a problem. _What a shock_, Lucien scoffed to himself. She was always a problem. Had there really been any doubt that things would be different this time? This little confrontation only confirmed the fact. He didn't like problems. He was too close to the grail to allow an insignificant mortal to steal it out from under his nose. Nicholas belonged to him. The boy's rightful place was by his maker's side, living as a vampire. LaCroix's jaw tightened with ruthless purpose. He would see it happen.

Continuing to look at Nicholas, the elder vampire let out a frustrated sigh. It really was a shame about the good doctor, he supposed. She possessed a will, a determination, the likes of which he hadn't seen since...well, since his own. But it was wasted in mortality. Still, he couldn't help but admire her for it. However, he would never tolerate it, especially where his favorite creation was concerned. Her interference would have to stop.

"What was that all about?"

The heated question shot from Nicholas as LaCroix faced the angry, blue eyes of his son. Lucien shook off his musings and concentrated on the boy. The accusation in both Nicholas' words and tone stirred an irritation of its own, but LaCroix bit his tongue. Fighting with his protege wouldn't get him anywhere. It hadn't in the past. He was finally learning that lesson. Calm reason was his best weapon against Nicholas' still chaotic emotions. And...a touch of manipulation wouldn't hurt either. Although he wasn't particularly proud of the devious strategy, he was never so appalled by it that he thought twice about using it when he felt the maneuvering would get him what he wanted. In this instance, his son's own words would be the tools of LaCroix's contrivance, and would serve him well in his cause.

With that in mind, he calmly walked to stand in front of his defiant child and addressed the question. "She's stubborn. She has to be made to understand that her...association with you is over. It must end, mustn't it, Nicholas? You said so yourself. It must end for her sake."

The anger drained quickly from Nicholas, his expression softening as a surprised hesitation entered his eyes.

A victorious smile tugged at a corner of LaCroix's mouth when he saw the reaction. _Bull's-eye._ The words had hit their target-hard.

"Yes. It has to end." The whisper left the younger vampire as he closed his eyes.

A storm of emotion cascaded over the connection as LaCroix sensed his son struggle with what he knew must be done. The weakness the silent battle revealed was still a great concern to the Roman, but he was pleased when a healthy certitude seemed to win out in the end.

After a few seconds, and with a ragged deep breath, Nicholas finally opened his eyes. The newly-forged resolve shown in the blue depths as did a subtle apology, a silent plea for forgiveness for his momentary lapse. "Yes," he solemnly repeated. "You're right."

LaCroix's smile broadened as heard the quiet admission, the charge of another small triumph running through him.

"But she's a part of my life, not yours." The protege continued, his modest attitude suddenly gone. "I'll make her understand." His eyes narrowed slightly as he shook his head. "I won't tolerate any threats from you."

"Threats?" Lucien's eyebrows rose in an exaggerated show of surprise as he injected a note of innocence into his voice. He really wasn't denying the allegation. He just wasn't going to come right out and admit to it.

"Oh, come on, LaCroix." The exasperation in Nicholas' voice was unmistakable, a shadow of blatant disbelief also evident in his face. "The insinuation couldn't have been more clear. Your interference is neither wanted or needed." He pointed to himself. "I'll deal with her."

Nicholas' renewed display of indignation sent a swift bolt of resentment shooting through LaCroix. He was as much as being told to mind his own business, and he didn't appreciate it in the least. Whether or not the boy wanted to believe it, this was his business, very much his business. Family was always his business, never more so than when its stability was at stake. Natalie Lambert was a danger to the healing relationship he had begun to share with his precious child. That most certainly was his business.

With more than a small amount of effort, the Roman held the wave of anger at bay. He had to remember his chosen plan of persuasion. Sighing, he placed a tolerant hand on his son's arm. "She's mortal, Nicholas, fragile, vulnerable. Can you afford the risk? Can you afford to continue to allow her so close, even for a short time?"

Again, LaCroix played on his creation's fears, mercilessly trying to sabotage the younger vampire's continued resistance. Nicholas' anxiety over disrupting more human lives through his mere association was great, so great that Lucien's skillful hint at the constant danger seemed to have the desired, cooling effect.

The reminder sank in as a veil of anguished guilt fell across Nicholas' features, his mouth forming a grim line. LaCroix hated seeing, and feeling, the unbearable pain. A frustrated sympathy hit the master vampire. It didn't have to be like this. If Nicholas would only free himself, release the misguided grief, banish the destructive pain. If he would only forget. If only...

_Nicholas, you've got to let this life go._

"I know." The choked words escaped his son before he blinked away the red mist that had pooled in his eyes. Turning, he looked back into the flames dancing in the hearth. "I know that I no longer belong in her world. That I never did belong in her world, her life. But..." His attention once again focused on LaCroix, a firmness returning to his husky voice. "I want you to stay out of this. Please. I can handle it."

_Can you?_ Lucien had his doubts.

He dropped his hand from his son's arm, a faint disgust coloring his tone. "You should have made a clean break, Nicholas. I still insist that this month-long reprieve is ill-advised."

"Perhaps, but it's done." The protege's back stiffened as the condemning words seemed to strengthen his purpose. "I made the promise, and I'm going to keep it. And when it's over, I know what must be done." Walking to the refrigerator, he pulled out a bottle of blood before looking back at LaCroix. "Was there a reason for your visit?"

"No, nothing in particular. I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"Well, as you can see, I'm fine."

_Oh, yes. I can see._ 'Fine' would not have been his choice of word. 'Shaky' perhaps, but not 'fine'.

Nicholas indicated the bottle in his hand. "Would you care for some?"

"No." LaCroix shook his head. "I must be getting back to the club. I've got some paperwork to catch up on." He walked over to his son and captured the younger vampire's sad eyes with his own. "Take care, Nicholas."

The words were a wish, but they were also a warning. As LaCroix studied the boy's face, he knew Nicholas understood. However, understanding was one thing; strength of resolve was quite another. With Dr. Lambert hovering like a mother hen, would Nicholas be able to maintain his determination? Recalling the scene he'd witnessed when he entered the loft a few minutes ago, the Roman's answer was a swift, disappointing no. Lucien felt his earlier anger return. If allowed a free rein, the mortal would jeopardize Nicholas' return to the family. He couldn't allow that to happen. There was still some persuading to be done, but his energies might be more effective if placed elsewhere.

"Good night, LaCroix," Nicholas quietly answered the farewell.

Bowing his head in a silent acknowledgment, Lucien took his leave.

Nick took a long drink from the bottle, a gratified shiver sliding down his body. The human blood tasted good, too good. An unwelcome spark of guilt rose with the admission, but he quietly pushed it into hiding as he carried the bottle back into the living room. Once again, he stood by the fireplace staring into the flames.

LaCroix was right. He had to keep himself focused. There was too much at stake. Mortal lives. Nat's life. He had to keep her at a distance. He had to make her understand. It was for her own good, for his own good.

Knight closed his eyes against the memory of her lovely face, against the recollection of her warm, inviting touch. God, she felt so good, so right. _No!_ Opening his eyes, he took another swallow of the blood, the craving for Natalie stoking his hunger.

"No." This time the desperate denial was a whisper as he tried to steel himself against the need she stirred deep inside him. Again, he had let her too close, just as LaCroix had said. He'd allowed himself to be drawn to her loving comfort, to be swayed by her encouraging words, to get lost in her calming sweetness. It was dangerous. She was wrong about him. He was responsible for Elliot. As much as it hurt, he could never forget that one unforgivable fact. He had to remember it, and she had to accept it. She had to let go. She had to give up the fight. It was no use. He was a lost cause. She had to be made to see that.

A sad smile tugged at a corner of his mouth as he looked down at the bottle in his hand. 'I don't know when I've been beaten.' Nick recalled Natalie's words. She was stubborn all right, too stubborn. It was a trait he found infuriating and intriguing at the same time. She was one of the strongest women he'd ever known. But... The smile faded. That strength could be a curse as well as a blessing. LaCroix saw her as nothing more than a meddler. The ancient vampire did not tolerate meddlers.

Nick walked back into the kitchen and put the remaining blood in the refrigerator. Turning, he moved to sit on the couch. A book of short stories by Edger Allen Poe sat on an end table. Opening it to his bookmarked place, he stared into the fire. LaCroix didn't need to concern himself with Natalie. She wouldn't change his mind. Nick blinked away a sudden rush of emotion. After what had happened to Elliot, no one would change his mind. He couldn't be completely sure, but he thought he'd convinced his immortal father of that. Natalie was his concern. He would make her understand.

He looked down at the book in his lap, a sliver of dread cutting into his mind as a reservation crept from the shadows. He would make her understand, convince her of the futility, the danger. He had to. He was poison, death. He would bring her nothing but pain. She had to be made to realize that one, inescapable truth. It would save her life. He loved her. He would do anything to keep her from harm. For her sake, he had to find the strength to push her away.

End Chapter 21


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

It was snowing again, the fluffy crystals falling quietly to rest in his hair and on his shoulders. A harsh wind whipped around the corner of the building with an angry howl, but he didn't feel the cold. He never felt the cold-the cold around him, that is. The chill deep inside him was another matter, his body's lack of warmth something he felt every hour of every day, another bleak reminder of his unnatural state.

He hovered at the window a few feet off the ground, a painful sorrow gnawing at his heart. The room was full of people, mourners. Some standing, huddled in small groups. Some seated. Handkerchiefs and Kleenex were in abundance as tears flowed freely. Grief permeated the air like an icy fog, its bitter tentacles holding everyone in its unforgiving grasp. Nick lingered outside the window, detached from the humans on the other side, but not separated from their grief. In that one terrible reality, he felt a kinship with them. They shared the agony of loss.

A lump formed in Nick's throat as the sorrow in the room reached out and grabbed him by the heart. He couldn't bring himself to go inside, to soil the cleansing gathering. Beth had asked him to come, but he had no place among the innocent mortals. All he could do was stand on the outside looking in at the devastation he'd caused, wishing with all his might he could somehow make it go away.

Scanning the picture before him, he spotted his two friends. Jacob and Elizabeth stood at the front of the room surrounded by a group of people. Through the small crowd, Nick could see their faces. Both were red-eyed and solemn as they received condolences from their friends and family.

Condolences. He could offer none. Nothing he could say or do would ease their pain, halt their suffering. The lump in his throat tightened as he watched the grieving parents. They were trying to be strong, but the brave front crumbled under the pressure of the tragedy they found themselves under.

Nick's eyes followed Beth's as she wiped away brimming tears and glanced behind her. There, he spied the one thing he did not want to see, the one thing he could not face. A small, white coffin sat at the very front of the room flanked by dozens of flowers. It was open, but Nick couldn't see what he knew lay inside. The darkness of a black misery closed around him as he confronted the obscene reality. All he could see was the coffin. All he could feel was the painful grief.

_Elliot!_ The silent, anguished cry echoed in his head as a tear escaped his eye. _I'm so sorry._ Through the thickening red mist, Nick stared, almost dazed, at the tiny casket. Tomorrow. Tomorrow it would be placed in the ground. Tomorrow.

A tortured sob passed Nick's lips as he turned from the unbearable scene, and lifted himself into the chaos of the frosty night wind. It was too much. Once again, the consequence of his failure was too appalling to face.

He stood, as still as death, watching her. Dressed in green scrubs, she leaned over the body laying on the stainless steel table, intent in her examination, so immersed in the task she had neither seen nor heard him enter the room. But he had used his unearthly skills to gain access to the coroner's office, so he didn't expect her to notice his arrival. At least, not right away.

He waited, standing behind her, for an opportune moment to alert her to his presence, a sinister smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. The greater the surprise, the better. Intimidation was his purpose. Fear was his weapon. But would the proud mortal be intimidated? Would she give in to fear?

The memory of last night's meeting in the loft surfaced, and the grin dissolved into a bitter scowl. The strength of purpose he'd glimpsed in Dr. Lambert made him answer no to both of his unspoken questions. She'd stood up against him, refusing to back down, stubbornly asserting her place in Nicholas' life. She'd done her best to hide the apprehension, but her fluttering pulse had betrayed her. Still, she had put up a very convincing front, and to be sure, the audacity had been genuine. She'd been determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her ill-ease, and he had expected no less. The show of grit, however annoying, was commendable, he supposed. But...

The scene he'd witnessed upon entering the loft flashed in his mind's eye, his frown deepening. Natalie Lambert had a soothing effect on Nicholas. Some would say she was good for him. The muscles in LaCroix's jaw tightened. Some would be wrong. As with Nicholas' bout with amnesia, she had proven herself a hindrance.

She was the perpetuator of a lie, the weaver of false hope. In the end, she would be Nicholas' undoing. She would cause him nothing but more pain. Her misguided beliefs nourished the boy's delusions of mortality, and it was time to put an end to the silly dreaming. Nicholas was finally realizing the futility of his search. Dr. Lambert could not be allowed to blur that realization.

LaCroix continued to look on in silence as Natalie lifted a scalpel from the nearby instrument table while speaking to the small tape recorder also situated on the table. "Cause of death-two gunshot wounds to the heart. The amount of tissue damage would indicate the shots were taken at close range."

The doctor remained quiet as she appeared to be removing the bullets from the corpse. Now was as good a time as any. "Hello, Doctor Lambert."

The softly spoken greeting might as well have been a cannon blast, if the good doctor's reaction was any indication. She jumped at the sound, dropping the scalpel in the process. A wicked tingle of success passed through LaCroix. If she'd been a cat, she would be hanging from the ceiling right now, all four paws clutching the tiles with extended claws. But instead, she abruptly spun around to stare, wide-eyed, at her unexpected visitor. The astonished expression on her face was priceless, but it quickly gave way to one of burning anger.

Lucien watched her eyes narrow as her mouth formed a hard line. His voice was all humble innocence as he spoke again. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, Dr. Lambert. But I thought perhaps it was time we had a talk."

Taking a deep breath, Natalie's eyebrows rose slightly as she answered. "A talk?" An incensed distrust colored the short reply. She had regained her composure, but the irritation was still plain to see.

"Yes." LaCroix finally moved, taking a step toward the shaken mortal. "I think it's time we came to an...understanding, don't you?"

"An understanding? About?" Natalie now played the innocent.

"Don't play coy with me, Doctor." Lucien found her attempt at naivete annoying. Turnabout was fair play, he supposed, but that didn't make the game any easier to tolerate. He took another step toward her. "You know very well about what. Or should I say, about who?"

"Nick." As she said the name, a worried frown turned Natalie's mouth while she tried taking a step backward. The autopsy table, however, thwarted her attempted retreat.

The subtle display of unease pleased Lucien, greatly. Her anxious frown should have done the same, but it didn't. Instead, it only served to reinforce the need for this visit. The doctor's concern for Nicholas was strong, very strong, and it was what had brought LaCroix here. Her interference was a result of that concern, and the bothersome intervention was not something to be pleased about.

"Yes...Nicholas." Smiling, Lucien hid his uncertainty as he confirmed her statement.

A small muscle in the doctor's jaw worked furiously as her frown deepened, LaCroix's confident smile seeming to cause her further exasperation. But it only took a second for her to brush off the anger, her face relaxing into a mask of unconcern. Her heart, however, continued to betray her. With a casual shrug, she shook her head. "I don't see any need for us to talk, LaCroix. I think we both understand one another very well." Slowly, she turned, picked up the scalpel and walked to the other side of the table. She appeared to be more comfortable with the distance between them, and LaCroix was encouraged further by the withdrawal.

"Ah...but, do we?" Lucien's smile disappeared. "Do you?"

"Of course, I do." Natalie's expression held a faint surprise. "I want...what Nick wants-his mortality. You, on the other hand, want to hold him to a life, an existence, he detests." With the last word, some of the doctor's courage seemed to return.

LaCroix's own anger rose as he digested the mortal's words. 'A life, an existence, he detests.' Detests. It was a harsh word, and he one didn't like hearing when discussing Nicholas and his chosen lifestyle. Whether it was true or not made no difference. Besides, it wasn't true anymore, not really. His fury dissipated.

Nicholas was finally accepting what he was, and LaCroix drew great satisfaction from the knowledge. He had convinced himself that what brought Nicholas to this point didn't matter. The pain was something his son would have to endure. In the end, it would make him stronger. And, when he left his precious humans behind, he wouldn't have to experience it any longer. Nicholas was prepared to return to his life as a vampire-that was the only thing of any consequence. LaCroix wasn't going to allow this measly mortal to steal the joy he felt at this impending triumph.

"But does Nicholas really want mortality anymore, Doctor?" Lucien walked to stand directly next to the table, its width the only distance between himself and Doctor Lambert. He saw the doubt cloud her eyes as he continued. "As I understand it, he has decided to give up on the ludicrous dream. He is prepared to forget the impossible and move on. He believes it is for the best, and so do I."

Natalie shook her head, as if to dislodge the uncertainty he had brought to the surface. "He's confused right now. Elliot's death has turned him upside-down and inside-out. He just needs some time." The pleading note in her voice surprised LaCroix. Did she really think she could make him sympathetic to her cause? "I still believe he wants mortality." Sharp determination entered her voice with the last words. "He's just afraid." Her eyes met Lucien's in an unfaltering challenge. "I can help him with that fear, with the confusion."

_My, my but you are stubborn, Natalie. Not a good thing._ LaCroix acknowledged silently as his smile widened.

"Ah...and that's where the understanding between us appears to be a little...foggy, Doctor Lambert." LaCroix moved around the table and stood a few feet in front of Natalie. "You see, I don't think Nicholas needs any further...help from you. Your influence is the only thing that's confusing the boy. He's made a decision, the right decision, and he doesn't need you trying to convince him he's wrong."

"He is wrong." The defiant statement shot from Natalie as she stood her ground, not giving an inch. She put on a good show, but again, the rapid beating of her heart gave the game away. She was...nervous...frightened...angry? Perhaps all three. "Anyway," a confident smile suddenly appeared on her lips, "if Nick felt that way, I'm sure he'd let me know. It seems to me that you're the one who doesn't like the idea of my hanging around Nick. Maybe he doesn't want to leave this life as much as you think he does?"

LaCroix smothered the tiny flame of doubt that flared in the back of his mind. "No, doctor. Nicholas knows what he must do. As soon as this idiotic promise to you is fulfilled, he will do it. He will leave."

Natalie's smile grew a little bolder. "Well, if you're so certain of that, why all this concern about me?"

Lucien took another step closer to her, an unforgiving harshness entering his voice. "Because I will take no chances, stand for no interference. As you say, Nicholas is confused, and the confusion has made him weak. I don't want him swayed by flowery words of misguided hope whispered to him by you."

The doctor's air of confidence appeared to slip a fraction as she nervously wet her lips. "So you admit that his leaving is not set in stone?"

LaCroix slowly shook his head. "I admit that he is vulnerable to the likes of you. I am taking steps right now to protect that vulnerability."

"Steps?"

"Yes, Doctor." LaCroix took one more step forward. He stood less than a body's width from Natalie as he continued. "I am offering you a simple word of advice. Leave Nicholas alone." He bit out the last words with quiet force.

Natalie's eyes widened as she heard the 'advice'. Taking a step back from LaCroix, she looked over at the body on the table. Her heart continued to hammer in her chest as she stared at the lifeless form on the cold steel, a shocked blankness in her expression. After a second or two, the apparent numbness seemed to thaw, and she threw a furious glare at her visitor. "Or what? Are you threatening me, LaCroix?"

A short bark of laughter left Lucien. She was scared to death, but she wasn't going to let him see it. "Hardly a threat, Doctor. But...take it which ever way you choose. I will see Nicholas back by my side. Your interference is neither welcomed nor needed. Leave him be."

Smiling, Lucien bowed his head. His message delivered, and he believed, understood, the ancient immortal didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Doctor Lambert staring after him.

Natalie was so angry, she was shaking. Just who in the hell did he think he was, telling her what to do? Well... Her thoughts wavered a moment. _He's a 2000-year-old vampire, that's who. And probably the most powerful being you are ever likely to meet._

She thought about it a little more. Was she shaking just because she was angry?

A sigh escaped her as she walked over to the desk. Her knees weren't supporting her very well at the moment, and she settled into her chair. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in an effort to calm her racing heart. _No._

Her stomach lunged as she admitted the truth. It wasn't just anger that was causing her body's erratic behavior. She was frightened. And as far as she could see, she had every right to be scared. LaCroix was a formidable adversary, to say the very least. He could kill her in an instant, and no one would ever know what happened to her.

Her stomach did another summersault. Was that what he'd done? Threatened to kill her? She couldn't be completely sure. He hadn't actually said he was threatening her, but he knew his words could be taken as nothing less. _Bastard._

He'd come here for the express purpose of intimidating her, and, unfortunately, he'd succeeded, but only to a point.

The more she thought about it, the more her fear gave way to anger. He had no right to interfere, no right at all. It was Nick's life they were talking about. No one but Nick had the right to tell her to get lost. No one.

But... The dread, once again, churned her stomach. Was she willing to risk her life to maintain the battle? Was Nick worth that possibility? Well, she wasn't sure if death was one of her choices, but even if it were, the fight would be worth it. Besides, she wouldn't know how to just stand by and watch passively as Nick left her life. Fighting was one of the things she did best. No matter what the obstacle, there was really no question as to whether or not she was going to continue the battle. The automatic answer was yes, regardless of the outcome, yes. Yes, Nick was worth it. To her, he was worth anything.

Opening her eyes, she looked over at the job still waiting for her on the table. She had to at least get the prelim finished tonight. Taking another deep breath, she rose from the chair. Her legs were much more stable now, as was her heart. As she walked over to the table, she wondered to herself, Should _I tell Nick about this little visit?_

The answer was a quick and resounding no. If he knew about it, the knowledge would only serve to give him another reason to push her away. For her own safety, he would tell her to stay away. She wouldn't give him anymore ammunition to use against her.

Looking down at her hand, she realized she still held the scalpel she'd picked up from the floor earlier. She glanced at the tape recorder. It was still running. Picking it up, she hit the 'rewind' button. After a minute or so, she played the tape. "Hello, Doctor Lambert." LaCroix's rich voice mocked her from the recorder.

An icy ripple of dread slipped along Nat's spine. "Damn," she cursed as a shaky finger hit the 'rewind' button again. A few seconds ticked past, and she hit the 'play' button. "...at close range." Her own voice filled the room. Again, she stopped the tape. Setting it back on the instrument table, she pressed the 'record' button, and turned to her patient. She ignored her still unsteady hands as she resumed trying to extract the bullets from the body on her table.

End Chapter 22


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The light was so bright he almost couldn't bear to look into it, a hand shielding his eyes as he searched the blinding brilliance. He was at the doorway-once again hovering on the threshold between life and judgement. He'd made it back, back to the light. He didn't know how. He didn't care how. He only knew he was here, and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity. He would walk through the door and take whatever judgement awaited him. The mortals around him were now safe. His suffering had come to an end.

Taking a deep breath, Nick started to walk toward the light. As he moved to take the first step, his body refused to respond. He was frozen in place. Looking down at his feet, he tried to get his legs to move, but something was holding him back. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his muscles to obey.

As he fought the unseen force that restrained him, the vampire gazed back into the light. His struggles suddenly ceased as he saw something move-a shadow. The guide? It had to be the guide. But... No. There was more than one. Raising his hand again, Nick squinted. One, two... There were two shadows.

The silhouettes stopped in the doorway, silent, awash in the dazzling brightness that poured from behind them. Nick studied the forms, a startling recognition nearly sending him to his knees. "Schank? Amanda?" The uncertain whisper almost caught in his dry throat.

"Nick?" A small voice said his name.

The painfully familiar sound hit him like a blow from a sledgehammer trained at his gut. "Elliot?" The question came in the form of a tortured sob.

"Nick?" The tiny voice spoke again as Nick watched a third shadow move to stand in front of the others. It stopped just on the other side of the doorway.

Through tear-blurred eyes, the immortal looked down at the silhouette of a child. "Elliot?"

"Nick, aren't you coming with me? Please, Nick." The boy held out his arms. "Please come with me."

"I'm trying, Elliot." Nick struggled to move his still uncooperative body. "I'm trying."

It was then that Knight felt hands on his upper arms, like bands of steel holding him in place. Turning his head, he looked behind him and came face to face with his captor. Staring back at him was his own likeness, an evil grin forming along the cruel mouth. A thick revulsion rose in his throat as the double sneered, "Naughty boy. You don't belong there, Nicholas de Brabant. You know that."

The twin started to laugh, a sinister sound that sent a sickened shudder shooting through Nick. As he stared in horror at the snickering mirror image, he shrank from the blood-stained fangs that were revealed. His eyes dropped from the hideous sight, only to be confronted by the creeping, slimy soul of the being who held him, his jailer's chest alive with the movement of the hundreds of maggots that infested it.

"No!" Nick closed his eyes against the damning truth. "No!"

"Nick?" The young voice spoke again.

"Elliot?" The tormented immortal looked back into the light. "I'm sorry, Elliot. I'm so sorry."

"Please, Nick." The shadow lifted its small arms higher in invitation. "Please?"

"Elliot!"

The guttural scream broke from Nick as his eyes sprang open, his breath coming short and fast over dry, parted lips. Running a soothing tongue over those lips, he blinked. The graying sky stared down on him from the skylight, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was in the loft. It had only been a dream, a terrifying, frustrating dream. But... A foreboding awareness seized his thoughts. The dream had been more than a dream. It had been a nightmare. And more than that, it had been an unforgiving glimpse at his reality.

Sitting up, he swung his feet to the floor, and rested his arms on his knees. He recalled the awful dream very clearly. Elliot, Schank and Amanda Cohen stood on the other side of judgement, while his polluted soul held him from the release he so desperately wanted.

Nick's eyes settled on the half-empty bottle of blood sitting on the coffee table as he tried to push the abhorrent vision from his head.

After he'd run from the funeral home last night, he'd come back to the loft, the tortuous image of the tiny casket burned in his mind. He had tried to lose himself in the blood, but after two bottles, he still hadn't lost sight of the picture. Sometime around dawn, before he'd had a chance to finish the third bottle, he'd found refuge in sleep. But the reprieve had been short-lived when the dreaming started.

The sight of Elliot standing at the threshold, small arms beckoning, reappeared in the vampire's head. A painful groan shattered the room's eerie stillness as he grabbed the bottle off the table. The blood was warm and rich as it bathed his mouth and flowed down his throat. So, why did he still feel so empty?

Its contents gone, Nick returned the bottle to the table. Leaning back on the couch, he glanced up at the skylight again. The sun was going down. The day was ending. Elliot's funeral was over, his small body laid to rest in the cold darkness of the ground.

Closing his eyes, his head moved slowly from side to side. With the realization came a fresh wave of pain and guilt. "Elliot, please forgive me. Please." The murmur came as a red tear rolled down his cheek.

"Nick?"

The quiet voice from his nightmare sounded so real, so close. Nick's eyes popped open as his body froze, every muscle jolting to a hard stillness. The utterance didn't seem to come from one direction, but from everywhere, from all around him. From inside him?

He was imagining it, of course. It was only in his head, an unkind figment of his troubled fancy. He listened, breathless, for another call, but it never came. A few more seconds of silence, and he felt the tension leave him. The grief and guilt were having their way with him, combining to perpetuate this brutal trick of the mind. Or perhaps he was simply going crazy? No. He wasn't quite there yet.

Shaking off the illusion, Nick plucked the bottle from the table and turned toward the kitchen. But before he could take one step, he found himself rooted to the floor, his eyes confronting a sight that drew a startled gasp of disbelief from him. A few feet from the elevator door stood Elliot. Or...what appeared to be Elliot.

_No_, Nick silently insisted as he shook his head. _This isn't real. He isn't here. He can't be here._

His eyes were playing a trick on him, just as his ears had done only moments ago. He was conjuring this ghostly image, his wish for Elliot's life giving his mind the power to generate this heart-breaking delusion. There were no such things as ghosts. Ah...but he knew better, didn't he? He'd seen ghosts in the past. Talked to them, in fact. Erica had come to him after her death. So too his beautiful Alyssa when he had entered Kessle House. Yes, he'd had encounters with spirits before, but he had hoped for more for Elliot. He had hoped for peace.

Mortal souls found peace after death. Nick clung fiercely to that notion no matter what his previous experience. Believing that Elliot was at peace was the only thing that offered him any kind of solace, any modicum of relief. Elliot was in a better place, at rest, at peace-safe. He had to be. _Please, God._

Nick closed his eyes. This was simply another way for his conscience to put him through more hell.

"Nick?"

Slowly, he opened his eyes to the hesitant voice. The vision had moved closer, now standing a few feet away at the back of the couch. The small, freckled face beamed a familiar smile, and the enchanting picture made the lump in Nick's throat that much harder to swallow.

"You aren't real." Nick finally spoke, the numbness permeating his mind mirrored in his bewildered tone.

The smile on the young face faded as the visitor vigorously nodded. "Yes, I am, Nick. It's me...Elliot."

"But...how?" Even after he encounters with Erica and Alyssa, Nick still found it difficult to easily accept what was happening. Maybe he just didn't want to accept it. "How can you be here?"

The ghost's brilliant grin returned as he began to move. An odd sort of wonder enveloped Nick as the presence walked around the couch to face him. The action was fluid, very fluid. The child appeared to be walking, his legs making the necessary motion, but as he stopped and stood next to the coffee table, Nick realized his visitor wasn't touching the ground, his small, sneaker-clad feet hovering an inch or so off the floor.

"How?" Nick repeated as he continued to stare in perplexed disbelief.

"Because-" The vision stepped forward. Stopping a foot or so from his host, his body levitated farther off the ground, and he placed a hand over the vampire's heart. "Because I'm here, Nick. That's how. You've always kept me here, and I'll always be here. I'll always be with you. I love you."

Nick drew a sharp breath as the hand settled on his chest, his eyes widening as he looked down into the angelic face of his visitor. He should have felt the weight of the small hand, but he didn't. There was no physical sensation of contact at all. It looked as though the boy was touching him, the tiny hand appearing opaque, solid, as it rested over Nick's heart. But there was no feeling of being touched, no weight or pressure characterizing the contact. Instead, a rich warmth poured from the vision's touch, a soothing heat that radiated from the point of connection to spread throughout Nick's entire body.

The comforting glow wrapped him in a rare contentment, calming his tormented thoughts. The peace he wished for Elliot enveloped his heart like a gentle embrace, the love a forceful rush as it pushed its way past the barriers of suffering and self-hatred. Nick's eyes fluttered shut as he basked in the precious feeling of tranquility. It was beyond anything he'd felt in almost 800 years. And with the tender warmth came an understanding acceptance, a true belief that this wasn't a hallucination, that this was indeed his young friend. Looking back into the beautiful, happy face before him, Nick smiled. "Elliot." The serenity that cradled his heart finding its way into that one, simple word.

The child nodded. "Yes, Nick. It's me."

"Why? Why are you here?"

"You're sad." Elliot's brown eyes clouded with unhappy concern. "I don't want you to be sad. I want to help you."

"How...how can you help me?" Nick wondered out loud.

The boy removed his hand from the immortal's chest, a reassuring smile returning to his face. "I can give you what you think you need."

Quietly, Nick mourned the loss of the child's ethereal touch, the calming warmth dissipating quickly in the absence of the contact. But a trace of the reassuring love still lingered over his heart and in his mind, and he clung to it fiercely as he contemplated what the boy had said. As before, on that fateful night of the concert, Elliot seemed to possess an insight and maturity far beyond his years. And as he looked into the compassionate eyes of his little friend, he tried to understand that maturity. "What I think I need?" he repeated with more than a small amount of confusion.

"Yeah." Elliot lowered himself to the floor and walked to the other side of the coffee table, his hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans. Nick hadn't noticed until now that the boy was dressed in the same thing he wore on the night of his death. The recognition bit sharply into Knight's newfound veil of well-being as the child continued. "Forgiveness. You think you need forgiveness."

"I don't need forgiveness?" The answer only served to confuse the immortal further.

"Oh, we all need forgiveness, Nick. You especially. But not for something you haven't done."

Nick's amazement at the deeper insight was overshadowed by an angry stubbornness as he understood, and quickly dismissed, Elliot's meaning.

Stepping around the coffee table, he stopped in front of the fireplace before turning back to face the spirit, the annoyed impatience entering his tone. "I know what I've done. I know what I am responsible for." Painful regret thickened his voice as the anger disappeared. "I'm so sorry, Elliot. So very sorry."

"But my death wasn't your fault, Nick." The boy joined the vampire at the fireplace, a youthful determination in his step. A slight frown tainted his expression as he shook his head. "That's what I'm here to tell you. You aren't responsible for what happened to me."

As Elliot moved his head from side to side, Nick spied the mark on his neck. It was just as he remembered it, a deep cut over two puncture wounds. Only the few droplets of blood were missing. With the glimpse came a flood of unwanted memory. Tony leaning over Elliot's lifeless body. The numb disbelief. The violent anger. The excruciating pain. The free-flowing tears as he ran sharp glass over his friend's skin.

Nick seemed unable to pull his gaze from the grotesque injury as the sorrow of that night engulfed him anew. Slowly, he raised a hand, unconsciously reaching out to touch the fatal mark. But his fingers encountered nothing but air as they moved freely through the presence standing before him. As before, what appeared solid, was not.

Nick's hand fell to his side. He watched Elliot reach up and touch the wound, the boy's frowning expression becoming colored with a splash of panic. The fear vanished quickly, but not before a realization struck the vampire. Through the reawakened anguish of that terrible night, he became aware of an abhorrent truth. "You know what killed you, don't you? You know what I am."

"Yes." Elliot stuffed his hand back into his pocket. "I know." Moving a step closer, his voice took on a heavy note of conviction. And once again, he sounded much older than the six-year-old boy who had stolen Nick's heart. "But it doesn't make any difference, Nick. You're my friend. I want you to be happy."

"Happy?" The incredulous word shot from Nick as the absurdity of the idea of happiness brought his skepticism to the surface. "I'm the reason you were killed, Elliot. How can you want me to be happy? Why don't you hate me?" He angrily pointed to himself, bitter tears of self-condemnation welling up in his eyes. "Why don't you hate this unnatural monster who let you die?"

"Hate you?" The child shook his head, his eyes widening in shock. "Gosh, Nick, I could never hate you. I'm here because I love you. Nothing's changed that. You're a vampire. But you're a vampire who was my friend and loved me. You're not the terrible thing that hurt me. You've never hurt me, Nick. My death wasn't your fault. You've got to believe that. You've got to forgive...forgive yourself."

A tear spilled down Nick's cheek as he listened to the love in the young voice that pleaded for his happiness. That he should command such kindness and affection baffled him. He knew he was undeserving. Who less deserving than a vampire, a murderer?

But as he continued to gaze into the beloved face of his spectral visitor, Nick also came to realize that, in some strangely compelling way, he was also blessed. Cursed, and made undeserving, by the choice he'd made 800 years ago, yet blessed by the choices he'd made in this most recent incarnation of life, his mortal companions offering him a wealth of devotion he'd never dreamed possible.

'You've got to forgive...forgive yourself.' The statement replayed in his head, and Nick pondered the wisdom of the words. It seemed that with death, came awareness. And with awareness, innocence was compromised. What extraordinary things had Elliot learned when he'd crossed the threshold into judgement and beyond? This image that stood before Nick was, and was not, the same child he had known. The young, innocent boy was still here, but a perceptive maturity hovered in his eyes and in his words.

'...forgive yourself.' How could he absolve himself of what he'd done? But more importantly, how could Elliot? And...did Elliot? Could the boy really forgive him?

Another tear escaped Nick's eye as he finally found his voice. "Can you forgive me, Elliot?"

An easy smile curved the child's lips as he moved closer. As before, he stopped less than a foot from Knight and raised himself farther off the ground. "There's nothing to forgive, Nick." His hand reached out and, once again, rested over the vampire's heart. "But if you need to hear it from me, yes. Yes, I forgive you. I love you."

Another wave of warmth and commitment flowed from the spirit's touch, and Nick allowed himself to get lost in it, silently rejoicing in the knowledge that Elliot could forgive him.

As he blinked away a new surge of tears, the immortal saw the boy look toward the ceiling as if listening to some unheard sound. With a subtle nod of his head, Elliot's attention returned to Nick, the broad smile still lighting his expression. "I love you, Nick. Never forget. I love you."

"I love you too, little man." The vampire watched with dazed sadness as the vision of his small friend slowly faded from sight. Taking a step forward, he glanced around the soundless loft. "Elliot?" But there was no answer. He was alone.

Closing his eyes, Nick took a deep breath. _Did that really just happen?_

The lingering sensation of peaceful tenderness that warmed his cold body told him yes. It had really happened. As remarkable as it seemed, Elliot had been here. Elliot had forgiven him.

But... Nick looked up at the skylight, the exquisite feeling of freedom soothing his mind suddenly deserting him. Could he do as Elliot asked? Could he forgive himself? He wasn't sure. The boy's appearance didn't change what had happened. It didn't change the fact that Elliot had been endangered by Nick's presence in his life. It didn't change the fact that leaving was the only way to protect Natalie and the rest of the humans around him. Would the forgiveness, if he could find it for himself, alter what he had to do? Would it change his need to leave this life? He shook his head. _No._

It changed nothing. He still had to leave. It was the only way.

End Chapter 23


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

"This won't go unnoticed, Knight." Captain Reese smiled from the other side of his desk. "You're sure to get another commendation. Not to mention the fact that you make the whole precinct look good."

Nick couldn't help the twitch of a grin that pulled at his lips when he heard the genuine enthusiasm in his boss' voice. Joe was happy about how things had gone down at the store, but he was probably a little more pleased by the attention the rescue would garner from the brass. Reese was never one to shy away from putting a little grease on the skids, and this would definitely make things slide a little easier.

"Thanks, Cap." Nick tried to down-play his actions. "But I was just doing my job."

"I know, but you did something not too many cops would have been able to do. There were eleven people in that store with two gunmen. You took both of them out without anyone getting hurt. How in the world did you do it?"

"Yeah," Tracy Vetter spoke up, a hint of suspicious sarcasm in her voice. "How _did_ you do it?"

Nick looked at his partner and saw a hint of resentment lurking in her eyes. As usual, he'd sent her to the opposite side of the building from where he had been, and by the time she'd gotten to the scene, everything was over.

He shrugged. "Just dumb luck, I guess."

"Right." The younger detective shook her head, impatient disbelief guarding her expression. "We were just driving by that grocery store. Nothing visible. Nothing on the radio. How did you know there were two creeps inside trying to rob the place?" She put her hands on her hips as a dubious smirk quirked her mouth. "That 'dumb luck' stuff seems to happen to you an awful lot."

All Nick could do was offer another shrug. Explaining his sixth sense had never been an option, and it never would be.

"Well," Reese moved from behind his desk and gave Nick a hefty pat on the back, "whatever it was, the people in that store should count themselves very lucky you were around, Nick. They owe you their lives. It looks like you were their blessing for the day."

"...blessing for the day." The words echoed in Nick's head as he recalled the one other time he'd heard them, the satisfied grin fading from his face. Jacob had said those very words to him on the day they'd met. But a blessing had been the last thing Nick had turned out to be for the mortal. A stab of guilt twisted the detective's gut. No, blessing was not a word he would use. Jacob had not been blessed. Elliot had not been blessed. Cursed had a more accurate ring to it.

But this situation was different. Wasn't it? The question begged a reprieve from the blame. He would never see these people again. He would not remain a part of their lives. He wouldn't have the opportunity to do them harm. The humans whose lives he'd saved tonight would only know the lie he perpetrated. They would only see the falsehood of humanity with which he continued to mask his true self. They had benefited from his darkened soul and the unnatural abilities it allowed. They would never come face to face with the reality of what he was and the danger he represented to them. So, could he let himself feel good about what he'd done tonight?

The rescue wasn't enough, of course. Nothing would ever be enough to make up for the tragedy he'd spread throughout his pathetic existence. But maybe he could cut himself a tiny sliver of slack for tonight's success. After all, no mortals had died.

"I want you two to finish the report before you leave tonight." Reese stuffed his hands in his pants' pockets as he looked at the detective team. "I'll fill out the commendation paperwork." He beamed another smile at Nick. "Great work, Detective."

"Ah...thanks, Cap." The vampire really couldn't think of anything else to say.

The next hour passed quickly and quietly as Nick and Tracy worked on the arrest report.

"Jeez, Nick." At one point, the rookie detective looked up from the computer where she was doing the backgrounds on the two men they'd arrested. "This Jack Simon is one bad character. From the looks of this, he may have killed everyone in that store tonight just for the fun of it."

"Yeah." Nick nodded. "He escaped from jail right after a double murder conviction last year before they had a chance to move him to a maximum security facility. He wouldn't have thought twice about leaving that store with no witnesses alive to testify. It's a lucky thing we passed by when we did."

The cynical expression returned to his partner's face. "Lucky thing."

A rare wave of gratification moved through Nick as the young mortal repeated his words. He had made a difference tonight, a positive difference. He'd all but forgotten what it felt like. The twitch of an unexpected smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. It felt good.

His attention dropped from the unspoken question in Tracy's eyes to settle on the report in front of him as he avoided any further discussion about what he had done tonight, or rather, how he'd done what he'd done tonight. Detective Vetter's curiosity would have to go unsatisfied.

By the time the report was finished, the shift was just about over. As Nick returned from handing the recap of the night's adventure to Reese, Tracy's phone rang.

"Vetter." Picking up a pencil, she pulled a notepad from a drawer. "Hey, Nat." The pencil remained idle while Tracy listened. "Yeah? Okay, we'll stop by. Thanks." As she replaced the receiver, the young detective looked up at Nick. "That was Natalie. She says she's got something for us on the Robinson case." Glancing at her watch, Tracy dropped the pencil on the desk and stood. She pulled her coat from the back of her chair as she continued. "Shift's almost over." Pushing her arms into the sleeves, she looked back at her partner. "You want to take separate cars? Meet at the coroner's office? That way you won't have to bring me back here afterwards."

"Sure," Nick agreed as a faint unease washed over him. He hadn't seen Natalie since the night LaCroix had visited the loft. It had been three days. Three days since she'd come to him, offering comfort and encouragement. He could still feel the warmth of her touch, still see the love and passion shining in her eyes. The temptation of her understanding, even now, weakened his determination to leave her. But LaCroix had been right. Nick's mouth tightened with the admission. He had to let this life go. He could no longer tolerate the risk he represented. He had to keep his distance. And then, he had to walk away.

But the force of his resolve had dwindled over the last few days. As much as Nick tried to deny it, Elliot's visit had affected him, changed him, more than he would have thought possible. It had permeated the dark cocoon of pain and guilt surrounding him, and punched a multitude of tiny pinholes in the sturdy barrier, allowing the soft light of forgiveness and hope to filter in. Elliot's appearance made him contemplate the possibility of staying, consider the prospect of self-forgiveness. And Natalie's tender compassion would only help to weaken his protective shield of misery. Seeing her tonight would be a test of his failing determination, a test he continued to believe he had to pass, for everyone's sake.

"Sure," he repeated after pulling himself from his jumbled thoughts, the turmoil taking some of the edge off his earlier contentment. It was mistake to get caught up in the ideas of accomplishment and forgiveness. It was foolish. He would no longer play the fool. Nodding, he added, "I'll meet you there in about thirty minutes."

"Okay, sounds good."

Tracy was already at the coroner's office when Nick arrived. As Nick walked through the door to the lab, he found his partner perched on Nat's desk, relaying the earlier events of the evening to the lovely doctor, who sat in the chair taking in the tale with a wondrous smile.

"Yeah, Nick's a big hero...again." Tracy sighed in frustration. "I don't know how he does it, but he always manages to be in the right place at the right time."

A sudden stab of longing shot through Nick as he studied Natalie's precious face, the genuine happiness reflected there giving him pause. His actions tonight were the reason for her happiness, and the knowledge prompted another surge of gratification to rush over him.

_But how long will it last?_ the unforgiving inner voice chided. _How long before that contentment is shattered? How long before what you are once again destroys that fragile bliss?_

As he faced the scathing questions, Nick's ghostly smile vanished, the unspoken answer giving him the strength to squelch the aching need that clawed at his heart. He wasn't going to allow himself the time to do anymore damage, to shatter anymore lives. He wasn't. It had to end.

He remained quietly lost in Natalie's delighted expression as Tracy continued. "But I have to say, however he does it, I'm grateful for it. He's saved so many lives, including my own. I kinda hate to admit it, but..." The young detective's voice grew hushed as a serious note suddenly colored her tone. "I don't want to think about where I might be if he weren't around. He's...well, he's helped me more than I'll ever be able to tell him."

With those last words, Natalie's eyes left Tracy and collided with Nick's. The surprise he saw there only lasted a second before it was banished by a happy tenderness, the sight of him seeming to afford her as much, if not more, delight than Tracy's story. But as she searched his face and confront the troubled frown that hardened his features, his worried unease was reflected in Nat's expression.

Steeling himself against the sympathetic pain that answered the sorrowful look, Nick made his presence known to both of the room's occupants as he walked over to the desk. "You starting without me, partner?" He forced an uninspired smile to his lips. "I thought we were supposed to be doing things together?"

As Nick spoke, Tracy's attention quickly shifted in his direction, his quiet entrance catching her unawares. Her eyes narrow slightly as she confronted him, but the faint irritation appeared to pass quickly as a smile suddenly sparkled in the blue depths. "Look who's talkin'. The guy who should have the definition of 'together' tattooed on the back of his hand." Nick's stilted smile softened to one of genuine mirth as his partner continued. "Anyway, we weren't starting without you. I was just telling Nat about tonight's little adventure."

"It was nothing, Trace. You don't need to make a big deal out of it." Nick shook his head.

"Oh, I don't know," Natalie's concerned frown disappeared, the earlier smile returning to her lovely face while the gleam of a silent encouragement shone in her eyes. "It sounds like a very big deal to me, a very big deal."

Nick felt his unsound resolve slip a fraction as he understood the encouraged meaning in Nat's words. He wished with every ounce of strength he possessed it could be that easy, that his good deed tonight could make up for what he'd done to Elliot, that it would somehow protect Natalie and others from his poisoning influence. But...

His fragile determination settled back into place, his strength of purpose somewhat replenished with the fresh thought of Elliot. It wasn't that easy. Nothing he could do would make up for what he'd allowed to happen, for the creature he was and the suffering he'd inflicted. Elliot had forgiven him, yes. But he'd yet to find forgiveness for himself, even though the idea was no longer quite as repugnant to him as it had been three days ago.

"Yeah, it's a big deal." Tracy broke into Nick's condemning thoughts. "As much as you're trying to ignore it, it's a big deal." Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention back to Natalie. "So, what's this new stuff on the Robinson case?"

Nat's contented stare left Nick as she took a sheet of paper from one of the boxes on her desk and handed it to Tracy. "It seems that some of the blood we found on Mister Robinson wasn't his. He was O positive, and the drops we found on the sleeve of his coat were AB negative. Pretty rare and definitely not his. So...the killer, whoever he or she was, may have left a calling card-unintentionally, of course."

Detective Vetter handed the lab report to Nick, who quickly scanned the page. Robinson had been found dead last night in an alley, shot twice in the chest at close range. From what Nick's partner had told him, at first, they had thought it looked like a drug deal gone bad, and then they'd learned the victim's identity.

David 'Tunes' Robinson was a twenty-year-old member of the Turks, one of the more dominant gangs in town. But this didn't follow the usual MO of a gang killing. It wasn't a drive-by. Instead, it had several earmarks of a setup. And still, it appeared as if Robinson had been able to do some damage before he died. A keen impatience hardened Nick's jaw. But regardless of the new piece of evidence, finding the young man's killer was going to be a tough job.

The war between the Turks and the Blades seemed to be escalating. And even though the alley where Robinson's body had been found was bordered on either side by a couple of apartment buildings, miraculously, no one had seen or heard a thing. If anyone knew anything, they weren't about to talk to the cops. Such behavior wasn't good for one's health.

"Is that it, Nat?"

Nick looked up from the report when Tracy spoke, the tiny note of confusion in her voice grabbing his attention. Apparently, she was expecting something more. And to be honest, so was he. If this was all she had, Natalie could have given them the information over the phone. There had been no real need for them to come down to the lab.

"Yeah, the new blood sample. That's it." Natalie's smile was a little on the sheepish side as her eyes left Tracy to settle on Nick once again.

A sudden wave of surprise hit Nick as he read the confession in her meek expression. Like he and his partner, Nat knew their trip down here hadn't been necessary. That is, at least, not necessary for furthering the case. But as he gazed into the doctor's beloved face, Nick realized that it had been necessary for her. Her features softened as she continued to look at him, her honest, open expression, filled with love and longing, trumpeting her need to see him.

A frosty shame joined the warm surprise enveloping him. His refusal to let her near him over the last three days had fostered this move. In his effort to begin the separation, he'd stayed away from her, cutting her calls short or not answering them at all. And when she had come around to see him, he'd refused to let her into the loft.

An unwanted lump formed in his throat. Each time he rejected her attempts to comfort and console him, he wrestled against his heart's unwillingness to harm her. Learning to assert the callous disregard was a painful...an agonizing, process, but one that had to be done. He kept telling himself that it was for her own good. That in the end she would be safe and free from his evil influence. That her life would be better, fuller, without him in it. That the suffering would herald a brighter future for her, much brighter than anything she could possibly have with him. There was no future with him. There was only death.

With each rejection, he told himself these things, but it didn't make what he was doing any easier. He loved her with every shred of mortal feeling he possessed. Pushing her away was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. The pain shadowing her eyes or the hurt echoing in her voice each time he cast aside her freely-offered compassion was eating him alive.

_Why isn't this getting any easier? It should be getting easier_, the frustrated challenge quietly hounded him.

Nick fought hard to hold back his beckoning tears. She deserved so much more than he could ever give her. When was she going to see that and give up on him? When?

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks and he could end the torture for everyone. Again, Nick silently acknowledged his master's wisdom. Making this promise to Natalie had been a mistake, a heartbreaking mistake. But it was a mistake he would see through to the end. He would not break the last pledge he would ever be able to make to her, no matter how much it hurt.

"Well...okay...ah," Tracy's voice shattered the seconds of charged silence. "I guess I'm gonna hit the road then." Her knowing eyes darted from Nick to Natalie as she slid off the desk, an abrupt awareness of the electric moment making the coroner's motives suddenly very clear. The young detective decided that she needed to make herself scarce, sooner rather than later. "Ah...thanks for the info, Nat." Not waiting for a reply, she started walking toward the door. As she passed her partner, she patted him on the arm. "I'll catch you tomorrow night." With that, she left the room.

It took a Herculean effort, but Nick finally pulled his gaze from the inviting warmth in Natalie's eyes. Concentrating on the floor, he cleared his throat. "Good night." He wasn't sure if she even heard the husky whisper, but he had no intention of waiting around to find out. Her loving comfort called to him, and he couldn't stay around and allow himself to get caught in it. He wouldn't.

Turning, he took a step toward the door.

"Please."

The quiet plea stopped him in his tracks.

"Please, Nick. Talk to me."

Painful tears echoed in her voice, and the sound savagely ripped at his heart.

"You promised."

Nick closed his eyes against the tortuous regret the simple reminder encouraged. With a deep breath, he tried to prepare himself for the anguish he knew he would see in the lovely face behind him.

Slowly, he turned back around. His discipline, however, wasn't nearly strong enough, and the sorrow he confronted almost drew an answering groan of misery from him. God help him, how was he going to keep this up?

_Elliot_, the inner voice coldly intervened. _You remember Elliot, don't you? Hurting her now will save her in the end. You do want to save her, don't you?_

More than anything in the world.

"I promised to stay, Nat, nothing more." The harsh note he injected into his voice amazed him. Because, as he studied Natalie's wounded expression, the last thing he was feeling was the cold cruelty that tainted his words. In reality, a fierce need pulled at him, an all-too-human desire to comfort. He wanted nothing more than to be able to ease her pain, take away the hurt, tell her that everything was going to be all right. But...that wasn't possible, not now, not ever. He needed the cold tone to hide the forbidden craving. Silently, he hoped he could maintain the facade.

"There can't be anything more," Nick continued. "You've got to understand that. I'm leaving. I have to. Nothing you can say will change my mind. I'm through with this life. I've stayed here too long. It's time to move on, to let this life go, to leave you with what little peace you have left. There's no other way."

He watched a tear slip from her eye, and the need to console her burned a little brighter. Reaching up, she quickly wiped the revealing wetness away, an indignant frown furrowing her brow as she seemed to be fighting the sadness that threatened to overtake her.

Rising from the chair, Natalie walked toward Nick, stopping only a foot or so from him, her increased heart rate another indication of a blossoming irritation. Her voice, too, conveyed a faint displeasure, an unmistakable note of distaste infecting it when she finally spoke-low, quiet, accusing. "So you're not even going to try to come to terms with what happened? You're not going to try to make your life here work? Is that all Elliot's life meant to you? Is that all Jacob and Beth mean to you? Are you really able to dismiss them so quickly, so callously?"

She might as well have slugged him in the jaw, the caustic inquiry landing more squarely than any right cross ever could. Staring at her in perplexed disbelief, Nick slowly shook his head. Why did she refuse to see that what he did, he did for her, for Jacob and Beth, for Elliot's memory? And as he continued to digest the impassioned words, his irritation blossomed into a heated indignation, the hands in his coat pockets rolling into ridged fists.

"Dismiss them?" The question was short and sharp, Nick finding no need to feign the harshness now. "I couldn't dismiss them even if I wanted to. They're burned into my mind and heart. They'll be a part of me for as long as I walk this earth." Taking a step forward, his steady gaze bore into the startled eyes of the mortal who stood before him, the heat of his anger permeating his biting words. "Elliot's life meant more to me than I can put into words, Natalie. Don't ever question my love for him, or his importance to me. Ever."

His dangerous posture appeared to sober her a little, and she swallowed hard at his forceful insistence. Nevertheless, her courage didn't desert her, and she stubbornly stood her ground. But when she spoke again, a gentle, more accepting, light shone in her eyes, along with a silent plea for forgiveness. "I'm sorry, Nick. I know how much you loved Elliot. I've never doubted it for one moment." There was an anxious edge to the soft voice that asked his absolution.

Closing the distance between them with another step, she reached out to place a tender hand on his arm, another hushed request for tolerance. The unexpected contact served its purpose as Nick felt his anger ease. But while calming the storm of one emotion, Natalie's touch kindled the flame of another. Even through the thickness of his coat, he experienced her inviting warmth, and a hot longing scorched him.

_No!_ Nick silently warned himself away.

"But," Nat's words filtered through the haze of need, "you don't believe Elliot would want to be the cause of your giving up, of your running away? Would he want you to magnify the waste his death represents by allowing it to destroy your dream of mortality?"

Elliot. What would Elliot want him to do? A mild amusement tempered Nick's longing as he considered the question, another query coming to the fore. What would Natalie think if she knew that he was very much aware of what Elliot wanted him to do? How would she react if she learned of the child's ghostly visit? Somehow, he didn't want to find out.

Like himself, she had been privy to the otherworldly influence of Kessel House. She'd been visited several times by the ghost of her grandmother. He knew she would believe him if he confided in her. And he feared her acceptance, wary of the hope it would instill in her. Knowing Elliot forgave him would only give her a keener sense of purpose when it came to trying to convince him to continue his life in Toronto.

The subtle amusement withered. She would refuse to see that the boy's forgiveness changed nothing. Or so Nick kept trying to convince himself even as the warmth of the child's love continued to glow in a corner his cold heart. But forgiven or not, he was still a danger. It would be easier not to tell Nat about Elliot's appearance at the loft. Resisting their separate influences was proving to be difficult enough. A combined effort channeled through the embodiment of Natalie's steadfast conviction would be nearly impossible to overcome.

"Elliot is-" Nick faltered as he recognized the incorrect reference, guilty pain another reason for his hesitation. "Elliot was a child, Natalie. He would want a happy ending no matter how unrealistic the possibility may be."

The doctor's eyebrows rose slightly in annoyed surprise, her voice nonetheless quiet and even. "I want a happy ending, Nick. Am I acting like a child?"

"No, Nat." He slowly shook his head. "You're acting like a dreamer." He couldn't stop himself from lifting a hand, his fingers reaching out to slide down a satin cheek. The contact sent a warm electricity shooting through the vampire's chilly hand as he continued. "A lovely, optimistic dreamer."

Natalie's irritation seemed to fade with his touch, a sad smile softening her features. "Life would be pretty trying without a dream or two to help us along. What about you, Nick? Can't you dream anymore? Have you really truly lost the ability?"

A memory pulled at Nick's mouth, the frown deepening as he recalled his words to Katherine Barrington almost 50 years ago. "Dreams are portable...I carry mine with me."

At the time, it had been true. Although he'd had to move from life to life in order to hide his true nature, for the last couple of centuries his dream of a cure, of a return to mortality, remained with him no matter where he went. He'd kept it safely tucked away in his heart, drawing strength from his belief that someday it would become a reality.

But now, with this latest tragedy, the dream had faded into nothingness. It had drained from his heart the moment he'd set eyes on Elliot's lifeless body, and he no longer seemed to have the energy to conjure it again. Had he lost the ability to dream? Yes, perhaps he had. But if it made him see things more clearly, more realistically, was it really such a bad thing?

Nick dropped his hand from the tempting softness of Natalie's skin. Working to regain his aloof coolness, he walked over to the counter and stared down at the clean stainless steel. "I don't know." He heard the distant chill echo in his voice and silently congratulated himself. "Maybe I have. But I think it's for the best. I see things more clearly now. Without the fog of an unattainable dream blurring my vision, I can see what I have to do. And I know I can't do any good here anymore."

"Any good?" A rigid impatience raised the volume of the short reply before Natalie joined Nick at the counter. His eyes remained trained on the steel surface as she stared up at his profile. "What about what you did tonight? Wasn't that something good? Something very good?"

"It wasn't enough." Tired frustration caused a slow sigh as Nick turned to face Natalie. The same subtle pleading he'd heard in her questions was reflected in her earnest expression, and the sight threatened to melt the frigid wall he was working so hard to maintain. She seemed to be willing him to agree with her, silently urging him accept her outlook on the whole thing. She appeared desperate for him to believe in what he'd done tonight, to believe in himself.

He continued to be mesmerized by her open, expressive features and was astounded by what he read in them. She laid herself bare for him as a rainbow of raw emotion cried out for his surrender. There was compassion. There was fear. And there was love. But above all else there was hope, a remarkable faith that refused to give in and admit defeat. He'd seen it before many times, and it still continued to amaze him.

Once again, he fought the need to reward that hope, to console her, to ease her mind, to take away the worry. Quickly stifling the nagging desire, he focused his attention on the wall just over Nat's shoulder while he mentally backed away from the lure of the tender feeling. His tone dropped to a detached whisper when he found his voice again. "Nothing I do will ever be enough. Nothing, that is...but staying away."

"And if you'd stayed away tonight?" An unforgiving exasperation pierced Nat's question as she defiantly crossed her arms over her chest, her attitude abruptly changing with Nick's persistent stubbornness. "If you hadn't been there? How many people in that store would have died?"

"That's not the same thing," Nick curtly insisted as he retreated to stand next to the empty autopsy table, still refusing to look at Natalie.

"Yes, it is!" the doctor fervently implored before once again following the immortal. "Those people are alive tonight because you were here to save them. You were here. That's all that matters."

"Is it?" A hard challenge resonated in the words as Nick turned to face Natalie. "And the way I did it, that doesn't mean anything to you? The fact that my darkened soul was the reason for my success tonight? The reality that the powers of my evil allowed for the rescue?" Nat remained silent as he thrust the obviously unsettling inquiries in her direction. A sheepish unease suddenly clouded her eyes as she seemed unable, or unwilling, to defend the ironic contradiction he was pointing out.

"Yes," Nick nodded when he continued, the sad defeat in Natalie's eyes calming his tone with a sympathetic softness. "I saved those people, but what about all the others that suffer, have suffered, because I'm here, a part of their lives? In the end, my blackened soul smothers everything good, everything bright, around it."

"You're wrong, Nick. I'll never believe that. Never." The comforting contradiction was just above a whisper as Natalie shook her head. "Elliot didn't suffer because of you. Jacob and Elizabeth aren't suffering because of you. What you did tonight was wonderful, positive. Please don't dismiss it as something inconsequential. It means a great deal. And I know it's something Elliot would be very proud of you for. Just like I am-very proud."

With the last words, Natalie cupped a sweet hand to Nick's cheek, and the wall of ice melted into a useless puddle at his feet, the consoling warmth radiating from Nat's words and touch more intense than any sunlight.

He should have pulled away, but he couldn't, he just...couldn't. Instead, he found himself doing the very opposite, his head leaning ever so slightly into the tender caress. In reaction, Nat's heart took up another anxious rhythm, the rapid pulsation pounding in his ears.

Closing his eyes, he struggled against the lure of the commanding enticement, the ancient music of the mortal body calling him with a siren's song that had been a constant torture for the past 800 years. And to compound the temptation of the melody of the heart was the heady perfume of the blood, Natalie's glorious scent filling him as he took what he foolishly hoped would be a steadying deep breath. It did little else but tempt him further, his hunger for her scorching through him like a wild fire, consuming his puny determination with its unyielding heat.

But the hunger wasn't borne of bloodlust, not truly. It came from his heart, from a human place deep inside him that he didn't know still existed, that he didn't know could exist. It came from an unfamiliar place where the darkness didn't thrive, the place where Elliot's love softly glowed. From a place where a new beginning, a new hope, could be nurtured?

_No._ Nick's jaw tightened with the quiet denial. The idea was ludicrous, foolhardy, dangerous. But... His eyes sprang open as the soothing possibility beckoned him. What confronted him did little to reinforce his effort to extinguish the absurd flight of fancy. A beautiful promise shone in Natalie's eyes as she gazed up at him, the ghost of a smile on her lips. So close, so lovely, so trusting. A gentle dream of a happy future entreated his acceptance, and he wished he could believe. He wanted to believe.

"Can't you see that this is for the best-staying and working your way back. It can be done, Nick." Taking another step closer to him, Natalie raised up on her toes, her mouth hovering just under Nick's, their breath mingling with her husky whisper. "Please...please let me help you."

The proximity of her loving softness was too much for Nick, and with a muffled groan, he covered her trembling mouth with his, the desire to taste her sweeping him away with the force of a raging river current. His hands left the pockets of his coat, his arms moving around Natalie's waist to pull her against him. She was so warm, so gloriously warm. His lips moved slowly against hers, asking for entrance into the sweetness that awaited him inside. He heard a hushed moan rise from her as she granted his hungry request, her hand sliding from his cheek to feather through the hair at the back of his head, drawing him closer. A feral urgency engulfed Nick as he savored Nat's velvety warmth, drinking deeply of the honeyed flesh. But he couldn't seem to get enough as he eagerly explored her willing mouth. And when the call of the vampire started to overwhelm him, he somehow summoned the strength to pull himself from the enchanting sensations of having Natalie in his arms.

Reluctantly releasing her lips, Nick raised his head and looked at the woman who offered him such unselfish love and support. A love he didn't deserve. A support he couldn't accept. Her eyes were alight with the passion that continued to flicker there, a longing, as powerful as his, staring back at him from sparkling blue eyes.

"Nat- I- We can't-" Nick found it difficult to concentrate on what he knew had to be said, the flame of his hot desire still burning through his cold body. His icy defenses completely shattered, he couldn't find the words, words of apology, words of discouragement. Dropping his hands from Natalie's waist, he put some distance between them by taking a couple of steps backward, his eyes falling to the floor with his confusion. She was too great a temptation.

What had happened to all his well-intentioned resistance? An angry disappointment rushed through him as he tried to think. It had been stripped clean, that's what had happened, her inviting need to comfort and encourage him very effectively undermining his vow to keep her at arms' length. And he had willingly given in to the seduction of her compassion, allowed himself a momentary reprieve from the guilty anguish. It felt so good, so right. But...it wasn't right. Not for Natalie, not for her safety. How could he have permitted this to happen? How could he have been so weak?

"I...I've got to go. The sun 'll be up soon." The flimsy excuse was all he could muster, the necessity of retreat hammering in the back of his mind.

Desperate to squelch the craving to pull her to him again, Nick avoided looking at Natalie as he abruptly turned away and beat a quick exit through the door.

Her heart was about to pound its way right out of her chest, a familiar frustration throbbing through her with every beat. The air moved quickly over her parted lips as she tried to catch her breath, the effects of the heart-stopping kiss still playing havoc with her heated body.

She stood rooted to the floor, staring at the closed door of the lab for several minutes as the need surging through her finally began to dissipate.

Putting a hand to her lips, Natalie relived Nick's passionate caress and felt herself smile. If she looked in a mirror, the grin on her face would be one of the silliest things she'd seen in a very long time. But she just couldn't help it. Something had happened this morning, something wonderful. Something, that is, besides the incredible kiss.

For some odd reason, Natalie had the impression that a major battle had been won here this morning. A significant step forward had occurred right before her eyes.

Almost from the moment he'd entered the lab, she'd sensed a difference in Nick, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Something softer, more yielding. Oh, he'd tried to maintain the stony front, and there were a couple of times he'd had her fooled, the harshness in his words cutting sharply through her optimistic hope. But the bitter malice never appeared as unrelenting as it had just after Elliot's death. Even his heartbreaking rejections over the last few days had carried more of a frigid hardness. The edge had, for whatever reason, disappeared.

Maybe time was starting to take its toll on his guilt and self-hatred? But somehow she didn't really buy into that possibility. It would take much longer than a week. Nick was way too pigheaded for something as foreign to him as self-forgiveness to sink in in that short amount of time. It had to be something else. Maybe tonight's rescue? Although he'd shrugged off its importance, she knew he still had to have some sort of a feeling of accomplishment for his actions, no matter how much he denied it. But even tonight's success didn't seem like it would be enough to soften him so quickly. Maybe...

Natalie's hand left her mouth to settle on her hot cheek. Maybe the kiss?

_Yeah, right. No. Definitely no._ The denial ran through her head as a low chuckle disturbed the silence in the room. She would be flattering herself if she thought it would have that kind of an affect on him. He wasn't nearly as vulnerable to her attentions as she was to his.

Although, the raw desire she'd seen in his face after he'd broken the kiss made her wonder about the validity of that belief. The feelings they held for one another were deep, strong. And whenever they slipped from their chosen path of friendly distance, the result affected both of them, greatly. But nevertheless, the kiss had happened long after she'd gotten her first inkling of the change in him. That possibility didn't hold much water.

The heat in her cheeks grew a little warmer as she recalled what she had done. After all, they had hardly slipped this time. It had been more like a shove. And her handprints were all over both of their backs. She still couldn't believe she'd been so bold. She'd practically thrown herself at him, for goodness sake. But the need for him to feel her pride, her belief in him, her love for him, had hijacked her reason and common sense. At that moment in time, she hadn't been thinking about anything other than filling that need. And Nick certainly hadn't acted as though he objected, not by any stretch of the imagination. On the contrary, he'd seem almost as desperate for the contact as she had been.

Natalie's eyes slid shut. She could still feel him, taste him. A shiver of aroused excitement bolted through her body as she remembered the fierce hunger she had sensed in him as he'd explored her mouth. But amazingly, she hadn't seen any sign of the vampire. And for that she was thankful. The gratitude, however, wavered as she considered the reason for his unusual control.

He'd been drinking human blood. A frown pulled at her lips. That could very well be the explanation for his ability to keep the vampire at bay. She didn't like to admit it, but...it could be true. Perhaps the human blood had allowed for the kiss. She didn't know. And as another memory of the passionate embrace filled her mind, she wasn't sure how much she cared.

_Now wait just a minute, Lambert._ Nat silently reined in her disturbing musings. _Of course you care. You care a hell of a lot. Stop acting like some foolish adolescent. _

Taking her hand from her cheek, she opened her eyes and looked nervously around the empty room, unnecessarily concerned that someone might have seen her standing in the middle of the lab mooning over a certain homicide detective.

Running an unsteady hand down the front of her lab coat, Natalie turned and made her way back to her desk, sinking down in the chair.

_Priorities, Lambert. Priorities._

She turned her thoughts back to the major cause for her optimism. Nick's determination had shown real signs of weakness this morning, and the discovery was enough to make Nat absolutely giddy with excitement and a strengthened confidence. The wide grin returned as she leaned back in the chair and once again stared at the door through which the vampire had made his escape.

"This isn't over, Nick." The quiet declaration brimmed with an immovable conviction as Natalie silently vowed to make it harder than ever for him to leave.

The goblet shattered under the pressure put on it by the unrestrained strength of the preternatural hand that held it, human blood and vampire blood mixing as the shards of glass cut through ancient flesh.

But LaCroix didn't feel the sting of the small wounds as he stared into the dark abyss that loomed before his shadowed eyes. He only felt the pain of impending loss, grief for a dying dream. His lips tightened into yet a deeper scowl as he continued to glean the chaotic thoughts running through his protege's mind. The triumph, the success, like tiny grains of sand, was beginning to slip through his fingers, Nicholas' reawakening optimism loosening the master vampire's always-tenuous grip on his wayward son.

_Damn you, Nicholas! Damn you!_

His sights focused on the blood that slowly dripped from his fingertips, his hand dangling over the front of the arm of the chair in which he sat. He tried to think. What had happened? When had it happened? When had the momentum of Nicholas' determination changed its course? What had tipped the uncertain scales in this unwanted direction?

Granted, his son was still the toy of an unrelenting confusion, but it had been a confusion borne of a sincere need to leave this life behind, a troubled acceptance of his eternal existence. Now the confusion seemed steeped in a growing belief that he might be able to stay, a feeling of...hope, of forgiveness, fluttering to fragile life somewhere beneath the vast sea of grief and despair in which Nicholas floundered.

Another life-preserver had been thrown in the boy's direction, but unlike the countless others that bobbed, quietly ignored, around him in the waters of melancholy solitude, this particular lifeline was getting a long, hard look. This time, he wasn't turning his back on the offered salvation. No, this time, he was thinking about reaching out for it, accepting it, welcoming it.

A slow sigh escaped LaCroix as he watched the blood begin to dry into a thin, red shell over his hand, silently admitting that his child's desire for deliverance was not entirely a bad thing. Nicholas needed to lift himself out of the pain and guilt in which he was drowning, but it had to be his father's hand he reached for. Anyone else's support would mean only a temporary reprieve from the disillusionment. His master's was the only true rescue from the debilitating sorrow, the only true freedom from the suffering his son endured. Why, after all that had happened, did Nicholas continue to be so blind? Would he never learn?

The faint shudder of an uninvited apprehension rippled down LaCroix's back. He'd waited too long, growing careless in the intoxicating belief that his beautiful creation would soon be back by his side. Even after he'd cautioned himself against the trap, he'd nonetheless fallen into it, boorishly disregarding the warning he'd felt from Nicholas only a few days ago.

Foolishly, he'd chosen to dismiss the overwhelming tide of warmth and contentment that had flowed from his protege as nothing more than a temporary reprieve from the pain, Nicholas' thoughts filled with his love for Elliot and the child's love for him. After all, at the time, there had been no confusion; the determination to leave had remained in place, however shaky.

Lucien shook his head as an impatient self-annoyance blossomed in the back of his mind. Apparently, he had underestimated this event's significance. Looking back on it now, he supposed it was then that the winds of Nicholas' resolve had started to shift, the force of the at first gentle breeze increasing with each day that had passed to culminate in this morning's gale of bewildered acceptance.

LaCroix's bloody hand slowly formed a white-knuckled fist, the anger a steady heat simmering just beneath the surface. If he didn't do something about this most recent turn of events quickly, the gust would carry his precious child away from him, back to the undeserving humanity that surrounded them. The thought was enough to turn his stomach. He would not lose this fight again.

"Humanity." LaCroix uttered the word as his eyes fell to the floor, a pure, earnest disgust filling his quiet voice.

One human in particular came to mind, and Lucien's hand clenched tighter in reaction.

Doctor Natalie Lambert. Her meddling had no doubt been a further cause for this morning's plummet into forgiving uncertainty. He could feel his son's love and desire for the woman even as he tried to shut it out. It was indeed powerful. Something would have to be done. Her disruptive influence would have to stop. Another visit was apparently called for, a considerably more forceful visit.

Rising from his chair, Lucien looked down on the crushed glass that lay scattered on the floor surrounded by the dulling scarlet that now marred the exquisite Persian rug. Using such force on the good doctor, although somewhat appealing, might not be very practical where Nicholas' reaction was concerned. His alienation would more than likely be permanent. Still... If necessary... After all, permanent was relative when one considered immortality.

LaCroix's eyes slid to the red fist at his side, the tension leaving his hand as he considered the now dried, cracked sheen covering his skin. The blood of many of Nicholas' acquaintances throughout the centuries was on his hands, and he had no regrets for the lessons he had believed imperative for his son to learn. Perhaps this lesson was far too long overdue. Perhaps...

But he couldn't help feeling that the stain of Natalie Lambert's blood might be a little more difficult to live with.

The deep scowl returned to LaCroix's brow. Even if he didn't care for the good doctor or her misguided beliefs, he seemed unable to stop himself from respecting her. And Nicholas had never gotten this close to a mortal woman before, become this attached, loved this deeply. From every angle, removing Doctor Lambert from his creation's life looked to be a great deal harder than he would have thought. A small, rebellious part of him hoped she would listen to reason this time. But if she didn't...

_Tonight._

The decision made, LaCroix retired to his bedroom. He would clean up, rest and prepare for what needed to be done.

End Chapter 24


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The sun was going down, the danger of its cleansing rays gradually squelched by the dark protection of the shadowy night. Another day over. Another day closer to his goal. Another step away from this place and the life he'd mistakenly tried to build here.

With a tired sigh, he closed his eyes. His attempt at sleep had been a complete failure. Although, he supposed if he'd gone to bed instead of stretching out on the couch, he might have had better luck.

As he opened his restless eyes one more time, he admitted that it didn't really matter where he tried to rest. His tumultuous thoughts weren't about to let him get any sleep, and now it was too late to keep trying. He had to be at the precinct in a couple of hours.

_Natalie._ The name continued to infringe on his thoughts as the vision of her precious face continued to play across his mind's eye-haunting him, tempting him with the promise of a happiness he knew could never be.

This morning he had once again stumbled, allowing himself to be drawn in by the stunning lure of her calming warmth, her encouraging faith. It had been too easy to get lost in the soothing depths of her feelings for him, just too easy.

_No. Damn it, no!_ The impassioned rejection resounded in his head as he bolted upright, his feet swinging over the edge of the couch to settle on the floor. With his head in his hands, he cursed his perpetual weakness.

How many times was he going to have this battle with himself? Natalie was part of a dream he knew he would never see come true. What was it going to take to get him to accept that unavoidable reality? The ludicrous fantasy of love and mortality was what had gotten him to this desolate point in the first place-causing yet another innocent's death, and pain and sorrow for those left behind. This rekindled hope was a reckless folly that did nothing but open the door for more anguish. Why did he continue to harbor it?

Nick lifted his head and stared at the metal shutters that blocked out the retreating sunlight. He thought he had it beaten, this inane longing for a life in the sun. He'd banished it. He'd killed it. He was certain he had been successful in extinguishing the flickering light of hope, Elliot's death providing all the will he needed to stifle the resilient flame. But...Elliot's return, his forgiveness, his blinding love had somehow brought new life to the glow of faith, ignited a fresh, clean belief.

"I can't do this!" The fierce denial brutally smashed the deafening quiet that blanketed the room as Nick sprang to his feet, a savage anger with himself rushing forward. He shook his head. "I can't let this happen. I can't."

"Yes, you can."

The gentle contradiction called from behind him, and, for a second, he was transfixed by the sound, his eyes falling shut as he absorbed the shock of once again hearing the young, familiar voice.

Slowly, Nick turned to behold the exact same vision he had seen only a few days ago, the spirit standing next to the elevator door, a bright smile on his angelic face.

"Elliot." There was no numbed disbelief in his tone this time as he acknowledged his visitor. On the contrary, the name rang with the same grateful relief that swept through Nick's heart, his friend's appearance abruptly putting a stop to the struggle raging within him.

She turned the hair dryer off and laid it down on the bathroom counter. Looking back up into the mirror, she faltered as she caught herself, a strange sound filling her ears. An easy smile suddenly stared back at her from the steamy glass, the sound all at once falling into silence. She was whistling. Whistling, for cryin' out loud. The smile grew a tad bigger. She wasn't the whistling kind. Was she? Well, tonight she was. Maybe it was premature, impulsive and foolhardy, but she didn't care. She felt like she had a reason to whistle.

The sensation of a soft warmth rubbing against her shin pulled Natalie's eyes from the mirror. It was time for dinner, and this was her companion's way of reminding her of that little fact.

Reaching down, she ran a loving hand along an arched back, a short laugh leaving her when she heard the impatient meow. "Okay, Sydney. You're right. I'm mooning again." Straightening, she pulled the sash of her pink bathrobe a fraction tighter. "Let's go. I'll feed you before I get dressed."

As if he'd understood her every word, the gray and white cat trotted out of the bathroom toward the kitchen. Natalie found him seated by his bowl, eyes eagerly trained on the cabinet above and to the left of the sink.

As she pulled out the can opener and the cat food, that unfamiliar sound once again registered on her ears. She was being silly, she knew, but she just couldn't seem to help herself.

With Sydney happily eating his evening meal, she walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, her thoughts returning to the early morning hours and Nick's visit to the morgue. The need to get ready for work tapped steadily in the back of her head, but she found it hard to abandon the heartening memory.

She'd relived the kiss more times than she wanted to admit. The sensual recollection sent a renewed thrill coursing through her body, not to mention the pulse of a hungry ache, the beat of her heart increasing every time she recalled his passionate touch.

Mindless fingers ran across parted lips as the memory again wove its silken web of desire over Nat's mind, the dull yearning growing brighter with each second that passed.

_Snap out of it, Lambert._ Blinking, Natalie broke the spell of the stirring reminiscence. _That silly schoolgirl is starting to show her face again_, she silently scolded as a defiant smile tugged at her mouth. Oh, but sometimes that schoolgirl had so much fun.

Shaking her head, Nat pursed her lips with good-natured impatience as she reminded herself, yet again, why she felt so upbeat tonight. It wasn't the kiss. Well...okay, the kiss was part of it, but only a small part. The big part was Nick himself, his softening manner, the gaping cracks in his wall of detachment. He was coming around.

She truly believed he was coming around to her way of thinking. She wasn't exactly sure what she'd done to convince him. She wasn't exactly sure if she'd done anything to convince him. At this point, she didn't really much care what was causing the change. If it was her doing, fine. If Nick was somehow working his way through this on his own, even better. If it was a combination of both, terrific.

Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that it was happening. She knew, deep in her heart, he was having serious doubts about leaving. He hadn't said anything to make her feel this way. He hadn't truly done anything specific to make her feel this way either. Nonetheless, her hope for the future had multiplied tenfold over the last twenty-four hours.

Getting up from the couch, Natalie took a deep, satisfied breath. "You can do this, Nick." She spoke out loud with a happy confidence. "You can."

"And what precisely is it, Doctor Lambert, that Nicholas can do?"

The low, icy tone of the invading voice whipped along Nat's spine like an unforgiving arctic blast, the chill running through her body with a fierce quickness as its owner's name registered in her mind.

The initial shock of his intrusion was fleeting, however, and Natalie recovered rapidly, the heat of a building anger helping to thaw the numbness. With a furious scowl tightening her expression, she slowly turned to face LaCroix as he stood by the bay window behind the couch.

"You came back." Surprise entered Nick's voice with the statement. He hadn't expected to see his young friend again, ever.

"I had to." Elliot's smile fell slightly as he spoke, a faint concern showing in his eyes. With his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, he walked to stand on the other side of the leather couch, the concern usurping the grin a little more as he looked up into Nick's face. "You still need my help. I had to come back and help you."

A tender wave of love and gratitude moved over Nick as he read a worried unease peeking through the contentment shining in his visitor's eyes. Elliot's unselfish concern for him never ceased to amaze Nick, even now.

He allowed himself only a moment to savor the gentle feelings before the harsh reality pulled him from their calming embrace, his voice taking on a cold distance when he finally spoke. "There's nothing else you can do to help me, Elliot." A resigned sigh escaped Nick as a sad smile barely lifted the corners of his mouth. "Knowing that you forgive me has eased the pain, some." The half-hearted smirk vanished altogether. "But it hasn't changed the fact that you died because of me, or that I've been deluding myself for the past century with dreams of a shiny new soul and the mortal life that goes with it."

"A shiny new soul? Is that what you want, Nick?" What little of the six-year-old boy Nick still saw in Elliot suddenly disappeared with the questions, that unfathomable maturity taking over.

The surprised challenge in the young voice took him back for a moment before the embarrassment began to set in. And as it did, he was forced to look away from his guest, his eyes falling to concentrate on a black couch cushion. His jaw tightened with the unexpected inquiry. When voiced aloud, the wish sounded even more absurd, the impossibility of his secret desire echoing in his head like a sadistic laugh.

"Yes, I do." Nick admitted, quietly. "I wish I could take everything back, start all over again." The short bark of laughter that left him held no humor, a bitterness for the waste finding its way to the surface. "But it doesn't work that way, does it?" He glanced back up at Elliot, the child's expression still radiating a challenging concern. "One soul per customer. You live, or exist, and die with the one you were born with. No exchanges. I guess I just wish I could clean mine up a little bit, make it more presentable."

"Oh gosh, but you're doing that, Nick. It's not as black as it used to be." The vision joined his host on the other side of the couch, a strong note of resolve in his encouraging words. "But you've got to keep trying. You can't give up now."

The prospect of the first two sentences should have brought Nick some degree of comfort. He hadn't been a complete failure. Apparently, his soul was showing some sign of recovery. The years of deprivation and heartbreak were not a total loss, even though his mortality had yet to be reclaimed. How Elliot knew this, he couldn't begin to understand. However, he didn't question the boy's insight into the condition of his soul. The child's vantage point was greater than Nick would ever expect to achieve. Elliot's word was enough to assure him that his soul was a little lighter, that his struggle over the last hundred years or so hadn't been completely in vain.

But the knowledge didn't give him much solace. He refused to let it. Instead, he allowed the discovery to be overshadowed by the futility reflected in the next sentence the boy had uttered. "...keep trying." But for how long?

The fatigue of the last 100 years suddenly descended on Nick as he asked himself the question. In the end, how much good would it really do? How clean could he get his polluted soul? Surely, it was beyond true salvation? Far beyond. Besides, possible or not, the price was much too high.

A stubborn defiance took hold of Nick as he shook his head. "I can't keep sacrificing mortal lives on the altar of my search, Elliot, a search I can't even be sure will ever end."

"But you're not. I wasn't a sacrifice on that altar. You've got to believe that." A faint desperation tainted the spirit's plea. "Please. Please don't give up. Don't throw it all way."

"Throw what away?" A dark impatience imprisoned Nick in its grasp as he continued, his incredulous eyes remaining locked on Elliot's entreating expression. "The farce? The lie? The false hope?"

He faltered, the anger suddenly cooling as he thought to seek a more concrete reason for this risky optimism in which Elliot tried so hard to make him believe. He took a hesitant step toward the ghostly vision, his voice a hushed wish as he dared a lapse into faith. "Can I become mortal again?" But the hope was ridiculous, and he quickly beat it back into hiding, a light splash of sarcasm biting into the next question. "Can I scrub my soul hard enough and long enough to remove the layers of evil that soil it? Can I redeem myself for the 800 years of bloodshed? Can I?"

"I don't know, Nick. I wish I could answer your questions, but I can't." All of a sudden, Elliot sounded like the young, helpless boy Knight had befriended all those months ago, a stunned bewilderment entering his beautiful brown eyes.

For a moment, Nick let the familiarity touch his heart, a sympathy for the innocent child welling up inside him as he berated himself for the impulsive harshness in his tone. The youthful posture, however, faded almost immediately, a steady conviction creasing the child's brow when he pressed on, seemingly undaunted by Nick's belligerent attitude. "All I know is that you have to keep trying. The only way you're going to find the answers is if you keep looking."

"But without the smallest hope for success, how can I continue to search?" A heated exasperation simmered inside Nick as he turned and stalked to stand next to a steel-clad window, his back facing Elliot while he contemplated the cold, hard metal, like his reality-unyielding, a staunch barrier against the light. A soft sigh left him as he closed his eyes. There were no answers to his questions. So why did he keep asking them? It was all so futile.

"Oh, there's hope." The sound of Elliot's voice grew closer as he joined Nick at the window, his tone light with the positive declaration. "There's always hope, always a chance for redemption, for peace. You have to know that there's always hope."

Opening his eyes, Nick turned his head to look at the boy standing beside him, an encouraging smile tugging at the ghostly mouth.

"The hard part is believing in it, believing in yourself," the spirit continued while his body began a slow levitation until happy, brown eyes were level with troubled blue ones. "The hope is there." Nick moved to completely face his guest, intrigued by the steadfast assurance he was hearing. The child reached out a small hand and, as before, during his previous visit, laid it over Nick's heart. "It's here. The hope is here with me. You still carry it, but you're trying so hard to banish it. Please...don't push it away, Nick. Don't push us away."

Once again, the ethereal contact sent wave upon wave of warm, comforting love rushing through Nick's mind and body, and he could do little else but give himself over to its calming glow, unable to reject the peaceful sanctuary Elliot's devotion afforded him.

As he stood within the soothing embrace, a prudent belief began to settle in his mind, an acceptance of his hope as something more than foolishness, something stronger than uncertainty. With the belief came a revived energy, a renewed strength to face the demons that taunted him. A determination to carry on. The will to keep trying.

A genuine smile curved stoic lips as a rejuvenated possibility filled his head. "So mortality is possible?" The question was not much above a whisper, Nick all but unwilling to break the contented silence.

"Mortality?" A puzzled frown fell across Elliot's face. "I don't know about that." An easy shrug returned the smile. "I guess it's possible."

"But you just said-" Confusion abruptly snatched the fragile contentment from Nick's tentative grasp.

The ghost slowly shook his head. "I said there's hope for redemption if you're willing to work for it."

"Aren't they the same thing?" A shadow of doubt slithered into the back of Nick's mind, threatening his newly gained resolve. How could he be redeemed without the bright soul of mortality?

"Are they?" The child's brows rose with the quick question, the twinkle of a bothersome mischief shining in his eyes. "I'm not sure. Can't you gain one without the other? Can't you polish that dirty soul without regaining your mortality?"

Redemption without mortality? Mortality without redemption? Nick struggled against the unsettling prospects the questions evoked as his eyes slid shut. He'd never really separated the two before now. He'd have to be redeemed before mortality was possible, wouldn't he? He gave himself a mental shake. Of course he would. He had always believed that in order to become human again, his soul would have to be redeemed, cleansed. His mortality couldn't be restored to him without first exorcising the dark evil of the vampire. Mortality meant redemption, plain and simple. Didn't it? It would be a byproduct of the atonement, wouldn't it?

But...did it work that way? After all, he'd already achieved mortality once. Thanks to the drug Natalie found. Humanity hadn't come as a result of a change in his soul, but it hadn't been permanent, either. His journey back into the sunlight hadn't lasted. Nat had told him it was because the virus that caused his condition kept changing and overriding the effect of the drug. But perhaps it was more than that. There had been no true redemption, therefore, there had been no true mortality. To him, it was cut and dried. He shouldn't have been surprised when it ended. There had been no forgiveness.

Quietly, Nick examined the other side of the coin. Could a vampire get his soul clean enough to be redeemed, yet never regain his humanity? _No._

He refused to believe in the possibility. If forgiveness came, so too mortality. But...Elliot's question strongly begged the chance of absolution without transformation...and the guide... Nick's thoughts slowed. The guide had told him he still had work to do and had made no mention of mortality. The work would be done in his present state-redemption worked towards as a vampire. What the final result would be, mortality or no, was never breached.

_Nat._ Nick's heart suddenly ached with the agony of a debilitating longing even as Elliot's touch continued to bathe him in a healing warmth. He would never share a normal life with her.

"So mortality isn't possible." Nick opened his eyes, the flat statement landing on his revived faith with all the weight of his 800-year struggle. His recaptured hope was unceremoniously crushed beneath the unforgiving pressure, and a red mist formed over his eyes, blurring the gentle face before him.

"I didn't say that." The playful sparkle in the boy's eyes was reflected in the grin that continued to grace his mouth. "Anything's possible if you want it badly enough."

"But-" Blinking away the tears, Nick stared into the cheerful expression of his spectral guest, the daze of an ever-increasing mystification clouding his thoughts. Elliot's contradictions were beginning to irritate him.

Once again, the vision hovering off the ground in front of him seemed very much like the six-year-old child he had cherished-full of ideas and thoughts, oblivious to how much sense they did or didn't make. However, as he looked into the smiling, brown eyes that considered him with love, he wasn't so sure if that interpretation was true in this case. There was a knowledge in those eyes, a comprehension. For some reason, he got the distinct impression this happy ghost knew more than he was willing, or perhaps able, to tell him.

_Why can't you just come right out and tell me what is and isn't possible, Elliot?_

"Because, Nick-" The wisdom of age quickly reasserted itself as the child seemed to read Knight's mind. "I can't do all the work for you. Learning and growing in that knowledge is a part of this too-a part of the redemption. Finding the strength to face the unknown, and the faith to get through the tests that await you are part of the cleansing process. It's all work that you have to do, a destiny that you have to shape."

As before, an unheard voice seemed to call to the boy as his gaze lifted to the skylight, and he nodded. "I have to go now." His attention fell back to Nick. "Promise me you'll keep trying. I want you with me, Nick. Please promise me you won't give up. Promise me."

"How dare you invade my home?" Natalie made no attempt to hide her anger, her voice charged with the same disapproval furrowing her brow. She was mad as hell. The fear...well, the fear was something she refused to acknowledge.

"No, Doctor. How dare you." LaCroix took a step toward his host, a reflection of Natalie's fury evident in the harsh line of his mouth. It wasn't a frown, not really, but it certainly wasn't a smile.

"Get out." Nat didn't take the time to think before she spat out the harsh dismissal, using her anger to beat back the dread that threatened to sweep her away.

"Now that's not very hospitable, Doctor Lambert." LaCroix moved forward another step, the corners of his mouth lifting every so slightly in a tolerant smirk.

Natalie fought the urge to retreat as she looked into the sharp, blue stare of her unwanted visitor. When she felt the edge of the coffee table rub up against the backs of her legs, she couldn't help an inward chuckle. _Where the hell am I gonna go?_

"Hospitable?" Getting a firmer grip on the anger, she answered the sarcasm with some of her own as she crossed her arms over her chest in a show of hostile separation. Body language wasn't much in the way of protection. As a matter of fact, it was no protection at all, but at the moment, it was all she had. This particular action gave her, however miniscule, a satisfying sense of superior defiance. "You enter my home without an invitation and expect me to be hospitable? You expect a great deal, LaCroix. But then again, I think you know better, don't you?"

"Yes, well, perhaps. The sudden intrusion is unfortunate, but I find it to be very necessary. It appears as though it's time for us to have another...talk." LaCroix's smirk widened a tad with the last word, an amused gleam entering his eyes.

The slightly softer expression should have eased Nat's mind a bit, but it didn't. Instead, it only served to increase her anxiety. As she studied his hard eyes, she knew the grin wasn't the result of a harmless mirth-far from it. A dangerous kind of glee danced in the shimmering depths, and the sight made Nat's skin crawl. LaCroix looked for all the world like the cat that was about to eat the canary, and the canary, of course, was none other than Natalie herself.

The as yet subtle panic began to grow more urgent while Natalie struggled to keep the note of alarm out of her voice. She wouldn't give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing her fear. "We've said all that needs to be said."

Squaring her shoulders in stubborn challenge, she walked to stand at the end of the couch, moving, perhaps foolishly, closer to the intimidating personage towering next the window. She wasn't going to shrink from him. She would face him with all the courage her love for Nick afforded her. This was the enemy. Her enemy. Nick's enemy. There could be no show of weakness, no display of fear, not if there was to be a chance for victory.

As Nat made her stand at the end of the couch, some of that determined courage trickled through her unsteady fingers. For the first time since LaCroix's arrival, she became painfully aware of her state of undress, the fluffy robe the only cover for her nakedness. Raising a hand to the collar of the pink garment, she pulled the fabric closer around her neck as his granite gaze slowly wandered from her face to her bare feet, taking in every curve along its leisurely journey.

The foreboding chill that shot down Natalie's spine radiated throughout her entire body until she experienced the frigid tingle in her fingers and toes. She suddenly felt as though she didn't even have the robe as a barrier against LaCroix's probing stare, his cold scrutiny making her feel as if she'd been stripped bare for all to see. God, but he was an unnerving SOB.

_Don't let him do this to you, Lambert._ She sought to pull herself back from the debilitating paranoia as she raised her head a little higher and stuck out her chin a little farther.

"Apparently not everything has been said, Doctor. Or perhaps, it's not the words themselves, but the understanding that's blatantly absent." LaCroix's attention returned to Natalie's face, the mocking smile gone, the harshness in his eyes reverberating in the timbre of his voice. "You still seem to harbor the misguided notion that Nicholas needs your help. As I said before, nothing could be further from the truth. All he needs is the love of his creator, his father. My love for him will guide Nicholas back to where he belongs, back to his rightful place. He needs nothing more."

"Love?" A blatant disbelief rang loudly in Nat's voice, the sharp retort ending in a caustic sneer as she recovered some her slippery courage. "You don't love him. You covet him, but you don't love him."

LaCroix's eyes narrowed with the accusation, but Natalie looked past the silent warning as she charged ahead, the need to tell him just what she thought of his so-called love for his son urging her forward. "He's nothing more than a possession to you. A creation to be admired and boasted about. A self-serving toy." The scowl on LaCroix's face grew darker, but still Nat ignored the menacing reaction to her heated incriminations. "If you truly loved him, you would leave him alone and let him continue with his search. You'd help him with the search. What kind of love is it that smothers all that Nick is trying to accomplish?"

"Don't-" The tight-lipped response shot from LaCroix as he took another step closer to Nat, his hands white-knuckled fists hovering at his sides. A hot rage boiled in the icy eyes that looked disdainfully down on Natalie, his low, steady tone a further threat as he continued. "Don't ever presume to tell me how I feel about Nicholas, Doctor. You haven't the slightest idea what he means to me. He is my creation, yes, but he is much more. More than you will ever know. You're only a mortal."

Some of the anger was replaced by a condescending disgust as he granted Natalie her measly humanity, the word 'mortal' seeming to all but stick in his throat.

"You could never understand the bond I share with my son. The connection goes far beyond anything you could possibly imagine. I feel for him more deeply than you have the ability to comprehend. Just because I don't indulge Nicholas in this absurd fantasy of mortality doesn't mean I don't love him. On the contrary, it shows just how much I care. I want to see him spared the pain of disillusionment and failure that this inane search has, and will, cost him. I want what is best for Nicholas, Doctor. And sometimes that is at odds with what the boy wants, or thinks he wants. What kind of love is it that indulges desires that will only result in anguish and disappointment?"

Nat swallowed hard as she mentally kicked herself in the shins. She'd done it again. This was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that she'd succeeded, however unintentionally, in irritating a vampire by telling him how he felt. She was quickly discovering it wasn't a very intelligent thing to do, the intense anger that resulted something she would do well to avoid. As her quickened pulse rushed in her ears, she cautioned herself against doing it in the future, if at all possible.

Natalie's eyes left LaCroix's enraged expression to stare out the window into the darkness that now completely covered the city, a faint defeat mocking her as she allowed herself to absorb what he had just said to her.

With a smug satisfaction, he'd trumpeted her ignorance of his relationship with Nick, and the truth of it upset her more than she wanted to admit. Of course, he was right. Damn him. She didn't understand the bond that was shared between a vampire and his master, and she probably never would, short of experiencing it herself. Another shudder slipped along her spine. No matter how curious she was about it, she didn't want to experience it.

Anyway, just because she wasn't privy to that unattainable comprehension didn't mean she was blind. She'd seen and heard some of what LaCroix had done to Nick over the years, and she refused to believe that any of the torment was based in love. How could it be? However...

Nat's attention moved back to her intruder's face. A dull surprise registered in her head as she recognized an unexpected emotion hidden there. Through the anger, through the cold superiority, she saw an anxiety, a dark fear, lurking in his crystalline eyes. Her mind balked at the absurdity of the idea.

_LaCroix, frightened? What could he possibly be frightened of?_

What, indeed? The ironic cause for his apprehension suddenly hit Natalie right between the eyes. She couldn't help the cynical mirth that gently pulled at the corners of her mouth while she studied the kindred emotion burning in his unwavering gaze.

Losing Nick. The fear of losing Nick. Her own dread stared back at her with all the intense blackness that clouded her heart, and the sight left her dumbfounded. She had something singularly important in common with this ancient enigma. They shared the almost overpowering fear of loss, and both would do anything to prevent that fear from being realized.

Keeping her attention centered on LaCroix's telling expression, Natalie took a deep breath. It was a little hard to believe. She'd suspected, of course. Hell, she'd done more than suspect. Deep down, she'd known, hadn't she? But she'd never expected to see. To actually see this powerful being's fear.

Before, when they'd confronted one another in the loft after Nick's head wound, the only emotion she had noticed in LaCroix was an angry impatience with her interference. Other feelings, if he'd had any, were safely kept from her prying eyes. So too, when he'd visited her in the morgue only a few days ago. Again, she'd only been aware of his anger. Now, the invulnerability he had displayed before seemed to be gone, and she was able to get a slightly deeper glimpse into his heart. There was definitely fear cloistered there. Fear and...

Love? Was there actually love hiding in the shadows with the fear? Could this hardened vampire of almost 2000 years feel deeply enough to love...really love? Oh, he'd said he loved Nick, but Natalie remained dubious as to the truth of the statement until this very minute. As with the fear, she had never thought she would see it, but there it was. A love for Nick so powerful as to conjure a profound trepidation at the possibility of his loss. It was another important thing she and the vampire shared, an undying love for Nick Knight. Or...was it Nicholas de Brabant? Did it really matter?

She and LaCroix...kindred souls? Nat fought hard to keep the hysterical laugh that bubbled up to the surface silent. The idea was beyond ludicrous. But...in an odd way, it was also true. Crazy, but true.

However, there was one very important difference that set them miles, worlds, apart. Their hopes for Nick. In this, they were as opposite as night and day. Alike in some respects they might be, but they were forever separated by what they wanted for Nick, how they wanted to see him live his life. The difference was so great as to never be overcome. She understood, all too well, the love LaCroix held for Nick, but she could never sympathize with the master vampire. The weakness would result in a loss she could never endure.

With his last question, LaCroix had acknowledged Natalie's deep feelings for Nick, and the fact wasn't lost on her. Did he feel any kinship with her because of the love they shared for his beautiful son? Another laugh threatened to erupt from her throat as she thought about the possibility. It was an even more ludicrous idea than that of their being kindred souls.

Giving herself a hard mental shake, Nat quietly belittled the uncomfortable prospect. _I must be losing it. There's no other explanation. I'm losing it all right._

"What kind of love is it that indulges desires that will only result in anguish and disappointment?" LaCroix's question repeated itself in her head.

_A love that craves fulfillment._ Natalie selfishly answered to herself.

If Nick wanted his mortality, then by God, she wanted it more. She wanted him. She needed him. She loved him. She wanted what he wanted, and would do whatever it took to help him get it. The anguish and disappointment were not only Nick's. They were hers as well and worth suffering through if there was only a chance of attaining the goal.

"Enough." The short, biting command made Nat jump as it burst through the deafening stillness that lay thick about the room. LaCroix slowly moved his head from side to side, but the reinforced anger echoing in his voice seemed trained more at himself than at Nat. As if he'd let her hear too much, see too much. "I didn't come here to argue with you about the feelings I hold for Nicholas, Doctor Lambert."

"Then why did you come?"

"I can't be with you, Elliot. I can never be where you are." Nick shook his head as the reigned disappointment hardened his features.

"Yes, you can." Elliot gave a contradicting nod, a rich enthusiasm brimming in his voice. "You just have to keep trying."

Quietly, Nick stood in awe of the positive contentment flowing from the ghost's weightless hand as it continued to rest over his heart. The happy satisfaction mingled with encouraging love to again ease his troubled mind, to halt the cascade of negative uncertainty that further jeopardized his freshly recovered hope.

Could a creature of pure evil make it to heaven? The disturbing question stubbornly pushed its way past the quiet comfort as Nick studied the angelic face that offered so much encouragement. Would heaven ever accept a soul as black as his had been? Because surely that's where Elliot was, safe and secure in God's protective hands, hands that would never allow the murky soul of a vampire to be cradled within their loving grasp. The power of their discerning wrath was all Nick should expect.

Even with time, and by some miracle, redemption, his soul would never be clean enough to join Elliot. Purgatory was, perhaps, the best he could ever hope for when his time finally came, if he could find his way back to judgement at all. Regardless of the outcome of his penance, he and the boy would forever be separated by the choice he made 800 years ago.

However, the child seemed so sure of the possibility of their coming together that Nick couldn't help but ask. "Is there a heaven, Elliot? Can a soul which has harbored the absolute evil that mine has held ever hope to gain entrance? Can I really be with you?"

A precarious frown turned Elliot's mouth as he hesitated, his eyes traveling to the skylight for a few seconds before settling back on Nick's face. "Yes...there's a heaven." Some of the shy doubt left his expression as the frown dissolved into a subtle smile. "And all things are possible with faith. I have faith in you. Natalie has faith in you. Find it in yourself, Nick. Find it and hold on to it as tight as you can. Believe. I'm here to tell you that believing is the right thing to do. It isn't futile. It isn't silly. Believe that the struggle isn't in vain...and keep fighting."

A commanding flood of support and devotion, unlike anything Nick had experienced thus far, suddenly gushed from the spirit's touch. The tender bombardment forced Nick's eyes closed as it washed through him, the intensity of the feelings causing his knees to buckle slightly with its unexpected force. The love was a powerful, living thing that did battle with his last vestige of doubt and fear, beating them back to allow for the reassertion of a bright optimism.

"Promise me, Nick." The boy's quiet whisper echoed in Nick's head. "Please, promise me you'll hold on to the faith. Promise not to give up, to keep trying. Promise me."

Nick allowed Elliot's gentle prodding to have its way with him, the promising love completely usurping any hesitation that continued to lurk in his mind. After a few moments of strengthening silence, he slowly nodded his head. "I promise, Elliot." Opening his eyes, an easy smile curved his lips. "I promise."

"I love you. Always remember." The boy's hand dropped from Nick's chest. "I'll be waiting for you." Backing away with the practiced grace of a bird on the wing, the vision slowly began to fade from sight, but his voice remained vibrant in Nick's ears. "When the time comes, I'll be here waiting for you. Never forget...I love you."

Without Elliot's ethereal touch, the fierce wave of love and encouragement weaken, but it didn't totally disappear. On the contrary, Nick felt it form a small, but valiant, stronghold in his heart. Instead of waging a war of quilt and fear against the precious feelings, he silently offered them a chair and prayed for them to make themselves at home. He had every intention of holding on to them as tightly as he could.

The deep sense of loss that struck him as he watched Elliot's form begin to fade from sight was something he didn't want to hang on to. "Do you have to go?" His voice cracked with a tear of disappointment as he spoke. It was an idiotic question filled with a childish desire for the impossible, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from asking it, hoping against hope that Elliot would tell him no-he didn't have to go.

A fresh, radiant grin lit the spirit's face as he nodded. "Yes, I have to go. But you're gonna be all right, Nick. You are. Just remember what I told you. You're gonna be just fine." And with that, the foggy presence vanished completely.

Nick blinked, confirming that he was, once again, alone, his keen disappointment testified to by the single drop of moisture that slid down his cheek. But the glow of Elliot's tender commitment had a strong foothold, and as he felt its stalwart throb in his heart, the disappointment faded. After all, Elliot was still with him, tucked away safely in that stronghold-its architect and its guardian.

The realization brought a genuine smile to Nick's mouth as he turned to make his way upstairs. His young friend would remain with him forever, a gentle warmth residing in his cold heart, encouraging him and...

_I've done it again._ The incredulous thought intruded on the optimistic peace, stopping Nick in his tracks at the bottom of the staircase. _I've made another reckless promise._

And what a promise-the magnitude of it suddenly striking him as he sank to sit on lower a step, his eyes trained on the floor, but seeing nothing.

The apprehension began a deliberate assault on Nick's conscience, the rekindled doubt growing brighter as he considered his impulsiveness in making the pledge. Could he keep this promise after all that had happened? Could he continue to risk the search with the unknown lurking just ahead of him? Could he keep taking chances with the lives of those he cared about? Could he face the battle for control each new day would bring?

The anxious uncertainty continued to swell while the questions flashed through his head. As the silent interrogation disrupted his thoughts a tender calm rose up inside him and stifled the misgiving, a subtle determination taking its place. He would keep his friends safe. He would face the unknown and survive whatever challenges it held for him. He would see the promise through.

What choice did he have? He wouldn't break his word to Elliot. He couldn't. And besides...

Nick's attention was drawn to the skylight and the darkness that now peered down on him. Which goal offered him the greater reward, the deeper fulfillment-life as a vampire, or a life spent working toward redemption and, perhaps, mortality? Which struggle was worth the pain and disappointment that was sure to accompany it?

If he went back to his life as a vampire, there would be a constant battle with the guilt that existence had always fostered in him. He knew from experience that he could never free himself from it. The need for human blood would be sated, but the condemnation for that satisfaction would be more brutal than ever.

If he went back to working toward forgiveness, there would be the unending fight against the nature of the vampire-the constant craving for human blood. Then, as always, there was the guilt. Even a return to the higher path toward redemption wouldn't relieve the guilt. It hadn't before. No. His journey would continue to be plagued by the shame, his mind invariably vexed by it.

Taking a deep breath, Nick rose from the step. Walking into the kitchen, he pulled open the refrigerator door. The white-labeled bottles sat in two neat rows on the top shelf. Noticeably absent were the familiar unlabeled bottles and the generic plastic containers that always kept them company.

Which struggle offered him more promise? An impatient grin tugged at his lips. Was it really such a difficult question? Even with the possibility of achieving his goals of redemption and mortality still very much up in the air, a life of penance promised him a wealth of fulfillment his existence as a vampire could never hope to afford him. Elliot had told him anything was possible. That knowledge eased the feeling of futility and shored up his sagging hope for the future. Granted, the doubt couldn't be banished completely, and the guilt would never leave him, but their power over him, for the time being at least, had been greatly diminished.

One by one, Nick took the bottles of human blood to the sink and poured them down the drain. Sometime tonight he'd have to get something to replace them.

As he threw the last empty bottle into the trash, the renewed hope was joined by a sweet contentment, the chains of guilt and pain seeming to all at once loosen their stranglehold on him.

With a lighter heart and a clearer mind, he turned and headed back toward the stairs, an unfamiliar sense of happy anticipation putting an unaccustomed purpose in his step. He had to get ready for work, and there were a few stops he wanted to make on the way. The first of which was Natalie's apartment. He didn't want to wait until their shift to tell her of his decision to stay.

It was a silly question. She already knew the answer. He'd come here with more 'suggestions', she was sure. He'd come to warn her away from Nick-again.

"Oh come now, Doctor." LaCroix stood directly in front of Natalie now, his irritation with her a grim mask of impatience hardening his features. "I'm growing weary of the feigned ignorance. You know perfectly well why I'm here. Your interference hasn't stopped. I'd hoped my first visit would have been enough to convince you to mind your own business. But, alas, my hope seems to have been in vain."

The hand at the collar of her robe tightened a little more as Natalie's pulse kicked into a slightly higher gear, the silky threat in LaCroix's tone triggering the fresh alarm that went off in her head. His voice was quiet and even, his words civil and mannered, but the intimidation was nonetheless palpable, his intent clearly visible in his frosty stare.

Nat diligently chipped away at the icy fear that suddenly threatened to paralyze her. If she let it, it would leave her helpless against this more than formidable adversary-but she had no intention of letting it.

_Nick._ The precious name offered her a quiet reminder of just what was at stake. Recalling his confused surrender yesterday morning at the morgue, and the brightened possibility it represented, effectively shattered the debilitating layer of apprehension forming over her mind. It was going to take a hell of a lot more than LaCroix's silent menace to make her abandon her one true desire, her one true love. This was a battle she had known all along was coming, and she was prepared to fight it. No matter what the outcome. She could do no less than put everything she had into this fight for her happiness.

Lowering her arms, Nat slid her hands into the pockets of her robe with all the casual non-concern she could muster, an obstinate smile coming to her lips. "I'd have to agree with you. Your hope that I'll mind my own business certainly is in vain. Where Nick is concerned, it will always be in vain. He's very much my business until I hear differently from him."

Her response only seemed to give new force to LaCriox's anger as his clear eyes clouded over with the simmering rage. "I'm sorry to hear that, Doctor. I thought, perhaps, we could reach some kind of an understanding, but I see now just how foolish that sentimental thinking was."

Stubbornly refusing to be intimidated by LaCroix's anger, Nat stood her ground. "I'm not going to just give up on Nick and walk away, LaCroix. I won't abandon him to you and an existence he hates."

His lips tightened with the defiant words as Natalie watched him continue to wrestle with his ire. "Well-" Taking what looked to be a steadying breath, LaCroix trained a resolute expression on her. The anger wasn't gone. It was just hidden as he continued to speak. "Unlike the last time we had a similar conversation, when I allowed you the opportunity to try to influence Nicholas while he was...unsure of himself, I find I no longer have the desire or the patience to suffer any more of your meddling." Some of the anger peeked out from its hiding place, a harshness seeping back into his tone. "You will leave him alone, Doctor."

Natalie shook her head with slow, firm conviction, her heart a rapid drum in her chest and ears. "No, I won't. I'd die before I'd leave him to you."

It was a stupid thing to say, but it was the truth, and she couldn't have stopped herself even if she'd wanted to.

Her rigid refusal appeared to...disappoint him for a moment, but that reaction quickly gave way to another. The smile that crossed his face and entered his eyes was one of pure delight and anticipation.

Taking one more step forward, LaCroix loomed over Natalie, mere inches between them as his hushed voice filled the anxious silence. "Hmm...I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but you give me no choice. You see, Doctor Lambert, your death can very easily be arranged." The evil smile vanished, an unforgiving hardness transforming his features as he bit out the next words. "Nicholas is mine. I will see him back by my side."

End Chapter 25


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

He'd showered and dressed with an unnatural speed, influenced by the newly recovered hope that lingered in his heart. Traffic was light, and the Caddy made the trip across town in record time.

Stopping the car in front of Natalie's apartment building, Nick sat quietly for a moment as he considered exactly what he was going to tell her. That he was staying wouldn't be difficult. She would be more than happy to hear it.

A subtle smile curved his mouth. He looked forward to seeing the expression on her face when he told her. However, for some unfathomable reason, mentioning the catalyst for his decision seemed to be more difficult for him to contemplate. Should he confide in her the circumstance that had changed his mind?

Of course, her steadfast belief and encouragement were a part of that circumstance. Knowing that she had never lost faith in him had helped to ease him toward the conclusion he'd reached tonight. As much as he'd tried to push her from his heart, he had never once been remotely successful, her love for him a stubborn ember softly glowing in the bleak darkness of his despair, refusing to be extinguished, tempting him with the peace of its warm pledge. His gratitude for her unwavering support knew no bounds, and he would tell her so, but... Did he need to tell her about the unseen member of her team, her partner in persuasion? Did she need to know about Elliot's visits?

The easy smile tightened as a sobering cynicism crept over his thoughts. A ghost. His guidance had come from a ghost. The smile vanished altogether. Yet another supernatural happening to confide to Natalie, another finger of the paranormal reaching out and touching her through him. But she'd been privy to the experience once before with no help from him. Was that really what was bothering him about the prospect of telling her about Elliot?

The heat of a smoldering anger forced a foreboding shudder through Nick as it crept across the connection he shared with his master, the warning tingle halting his contemplation in its tracks.

LaCroix. The feeling was so intense it rooted Nick in place as it suddenly electrified his preternatural senses. His maker was close by, very close by, and he was furious. But more than furious, he was...desperate?

As a faint panic started to churn his gut, Nick bolted from the Caddy and ran toward the building, his eyes gravitating to the second floor. Frantically, his ears worked to block out the chorus of voices flowing from inside while he tried to zero in on one in particular.

"Nick doesn't belong to you, LaCroix." Natalie's voice registered clearly on Nick's hypersensitive hearing. A powerful relief shook him to the core as he recognized she was unharmed. "He belongs to himself and has the right to choose his own way." A heavy note of fear mingled with the defiance that colored the familiar sound.

With a barely controlled urgency, Nick pulled open the lobby door and bounded up the staircase, his own fear for Nat's safety threatening to snatch that necessary control from his grasp as he breezed by two mortals coming down the stairs.

The locked door handle gave way easily under his strength, and he quickly pushed his way into the apartment. What confronted him as he stood just inside the doorway sent a debilitating dread coursing through him. The picture was terrifyingly familiar as LaCroix towered over Natalie, a menacing scowl on his master's face as the fearful anger continued to rush over their connection. The scene he'd interrupted on a certain unforgettable Valentine's Day flashed in his mind, and the same terror that had held him then, strangled him now.

With the forced entry, two pairs of eyes turned in his direction, one startled-relieved, one cool-unflinching. Nick met the cold, unwavering gaze with a hard determination, his voice low and deliberate. "If you touch her, you'll never see me again."

To LaCroix, the threat was worse than one of death. Nick knew it, but he couldn't seem to draw any comfort from the knowledge and the upper hand he was fairly certain it gave him. Instead, the panic only tightened its grip on him. The strong conviction he'd managed to inject into his voice surprised him, because even though he meant every word, confident was the last thing he felt at the moment. His guilt and fear were such that he could hardly hold on to anything other than the blame that had begun to eat away at him.

It was happening again, right before his eyes. A horrific history threatened to repeat itself. The very idea caused bile to rise in his throat, the revulsion a physical sickness twisting his stomach. Once again, a mortal's life was at risk because of an association with him. But not just any mortal-Natalie. A life more precious to him than any that had touched him over the last eight centuries.

Nick's jaw tightened against the urge to cry out. _Dear, God, no. Please._

Through the haze of numbing apprehension fogging his mind, Nick tried to concentrate unrelenting eyes on LaCroix, silently warning him away from Natalie, quietly giving more force to his words.

A dull surprise registered on the his master's face as he felt a fresh, forceful wave of that perplexing fear move over their bond, the anger seemingly forgotten for a moment as their eyes steadily held one another's.

"She weakens you, Nicholas." LaCroix broke the deafening stillness, his tone tainted with a note of pleading, a faint request for sanity. "Can't you see that?" A touch of disappointment joined the appeal in his voice. "She saps your strength with promises of a future that will never be. She's holding you back, fostering more doubt."

"No." Nick's hard gaze shifted to Natalie's face as he spoke, reverent gratitude echoing in his words while a reassuring smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "She's my...friend. She strengthens me, gives me hope. I won't have that taken away from me again, LaCroix." He trained granite features back on his father, his voice once more reflecting the harshness. "Leave her alone."

"Don't, Nicholas." As he spoke, frustration dominated the feelings flowing from LaCroix, a growing impatience also apparent in the low sigh that escaped him before he continued. "Don't let the weakness overtake you." Sadly, LaCroix shook his head as he turned to face Nick and shorten the distance between them by a few steps. "You're well on your way back to where you belong. The journey is almost finished. The path is clear, save for one small obstacle. Don't allow yourself to be swayed from that path. Don't get lost again, Nicholas."

"Lost?" The word left Nick in the form of an incredulous sneer. "I've been lost. I'm not anymore. I've come back to myself, my true self."

The hurt ran deep, the pain excruciating, the sadness profound. Nick fought hard not to be affected by the raw emotion flowing from his master, the sudden barrage nearly drawing a moan of sympathy from him. His words of rejection had hit LaCroix hard, and he should have felt some sort of satisfaction from the effect. He wanted to, but it wouldn't quite come, not as strongly as he thought it should.

No matter what LaCroix had done, or threatened to do, there would always be a part of Nick that sympathized with his maker, there would always be a part of him that held a compassion, a...love for his father. That part now ached for the desperate anguish quietly tormenting LaCroix.

"No, Nicholas." The penetrating misery stained LaCroix's tone. "You're simply revisiting a lie. Holding a hope for the hopeless. Blindly nurturing future pain with this present folly. This pathetic veneer of humanity that you wear is a flimsy cover for your true self. Will you never learn? Mortality...humanity is beyond your reach. Accept it and move on."

"I can't. Not now. Not after-" Nick stopped short. Telling LaCroix of his promise to Elliot was not an option. Straightening his shoulders, he pushed his conviction back to the surface. "If there's the smallest chance, I have to keep trying."

"Chance?" The intolerant anger found its way back into LaCroix's voice. "A chance for what, Nicholas? More disappointment? More sorrow? That's all that awaits you at the end of this useless trek. You know it as well as I do." His eyes moved back to Natalie, the distaste boldly evident in his expression as they traveled over her profile, her sights still trained on Nick. "And what of the desire to protect the mortals around you? Have you changed your mind about that, too? The good doctor's safety has been compromised because of you. Has it not?" The smugness in his tone translated into the challenging gleam that entered his eyes as he looked to Nick once again.

_Yes._ The inner voice quietly scoffed, confirming a truth, a fear, Nick could not avoid. Nat's security had been jeopardized many times before because of her closeness to him, as it was now. He had recognized it the second he'd entered the apartment to find his father looming over her. She was at LaCroix's mercy because she was a part of his life. It wasn't worth the uncertainty of the future, was it? It wasn't worth keeping his promise to Elliot if it meant sacrificing Natalie. Nothing was worth that. Nothing.

"No." Natalie's solid denial broke through the doubt and blame pummeling Nick's mind, his attention leaving his master's face to settle on the determined expression on Nat's.

Her mouth was set in a stubborn line of rejection as she steadily moved her head from side to side, but the eyes that captured his held no rejection, no rebuff. They were filled with encouragement and a fierce will to be believed. "If my safety has been compromised in any way, it has nothing to do with Nick." Her eyes returned to LaCroix. "You're the one responsible for whatever happens here tonight. Only you."

Nick's next breath caught in his throat as his master's eyebrows rose with the vehement accusation, the surprise clearly visible on his face as he, too, turned his attention back to Natalie.

Anger was the next thing Nick expected to see, and the muscles throughout his body drew taut in preparation for action should LaCroix lose control. However, he was pleasantly disappointed when next he saw a composed amusement lift his father's mouth, a note of delicate condescension finding its way into Lucien's calm voice. "But it is your connection to Nicholas that has brought you here, Doctor Lambert. Can you deny it?"

"Yes." The answer was quick, sharp. "I can deny it very easily." Natalie's heart fluttered in her chest with the rapid pace of a hummingbird's wing, but a defying confidence shone brightly in the eyes that resolutely considered LaCroix. "Your possessiveness has put me here. But even that doesn't matter. What matters is...I'm here by choice. I chose to be a part of Nick's life, and I walked into this with my eyes wide open. I wasn't tricked. I wasn't coerced." A short bark of impatient laughter left her. "I've been warned away more times than I can count, but I've made the choice to stay. No." She shook her head. "The consequence of that decision is mine, and mine alone. I don't, nor will I ever, blame Nick for what happens to me as a result of my judgement. I'll never regret having him in my life, and I'll fight with all I've got to keep him here."

"But he doesn't belong in your life, Doctor. It's high time you accepted it." Anger once again filtered into LaCroix's features, a hard frown creasing his brow. "Nicholas' place is with his own kind. I made him. He belongs with me."

"No, LaCroix." The challenge continued to ring in Nat's tone. "You transformed him. You took a man and changed him into something beyond mortal." A cynical grin turned her mouth. "Something better than mortal? But even after 800 years the metamorphosis isn't complete, is it? There's still a human part of him that you'll never be able to claim, a part of his heart...his soul that will always be out of your reach. When Elliot died, Nick lost sight of that part of himself, but he's found it again." Her gaze traveled to Nick's face, a brilliant happiness sparkling in the blue depths as she appeared to already know that he had decided to stay. "He's found it again." The repeated sentence sounded like the whispered answer to a long begged-for prayer.

Unexpectedly, the fearful tension holding Nick captive disappeared, Natalie's sudden, forceful contentment contagious as it gently wiped away the guilt, softly obscured the dread. He allowed himself to bask in the joy he sensed in her as she continued to slowly caress his face with loving eyes, cherishing the fact that he was responsible for her serenity. It wasn't often he had this privilege, and he was going to savor it for as long as he could.

Standing quietly in the glow of her euphoria, he was once again astounded by her steadfast courage. Through the fear that he knew gripped her, she had stood up to his master, telling him things she knew he wouldn't want to hear, words of truth that worked to undermine his control over Nick. Her unfaltering support helped to banish his reawakening fear and doubt, and gave further strength to his hope. She was his saving grace, and he relished his ability to make her happy.

It wasn't long, however, before he felt his master's rage roll across their bond, violently shattering the blissful moment. His attention darted back to LaCroix in time to see tight fists form at his father's sides, the anger growing stronger, stoked by an intense fear of defeat, fed by a cavernous sense of disappointing loss.

Again, LaCroix's immeasurable pain tugged at Nick's heart, but he worked to ignore the empathy that threatened to sabotage his resolve. Natalie's safety was his only concern. No matter what it took, he wouldn't permit anything or anyone to harm her.

LaCroix took one furiously determined step toward Natalie, and in the blink of an eye, Nick moved between them, shielding her from his father's wrath. Looking up into his maker's cold gaze, he willfully confronted the rage. "No, LaCroix. You won't touch her. Besides, it won't get you what you want. I meant what I said. If you harm her, one way or another, you will never see me again."

Locking stony, defiant eyes with LaCroix, Nick felt the battle of decision waging inside his maker. That he took Nick's threat seriously there could be little doubt, his troubled hesitation more than adequate proof. Anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness, pain and...fear. They tumbled over the connection with the force of a tidal wave, LaCroix's normally restrained emotions once again running freely.

Silently, Nick braced himself against the disturbing flood, trying to survive the onslaught with his determination intact. Survive it he did, and after a few intense moments, his father seemed to get a firmer grip on his telling emotions. In the end, all Nick could feel was the agonizing pain of loss and a deep anxiety for the future, and a sliver of unrepentant compassion worked its way into his heart.

"Very well, Nicholas." LaCroix's sigh of defeat was accompanied by a very faint bow of the head. "You appear to have made up your mind. You're making a grave mistake, of course, but there seems to be little I can do about it at the moment. Nothing has changed. The inevitable has only been delayed." Taking a few steps back, LaCroix put some breathing room between himself and Nick, his hands hanging limply at his sides. "But remember this, Nicholas. When this-"

lifting a hand in the air, he motioned to nothing particular in the room as a thick note of disgust entered his voice, "farce once and for all comes crashing down around you, I will be here. I will _always_ be here." With that ominous promise, LaCroix vanished from sight.

Nick stood statue still in the aftermath of the confrontation as a fierce relief threatened to siphon what little strength remained in his limbs. Closing his eyes, he took a shaky, deep breath, a silent prayer of thanks running through his head. The fear, however, proved all too stubborn as it quickly usurped the momentary gratification, and he confronted the closeness with which he'd avoided yet another disaster, a disaster of his own making.

"Nick?" Natalie's soft voice sounded from behind him, pulling him from the pit of self-condemnation into which he had started to sink. She was all right, unharmed, safe. He had seen to that. This time, he had stopped a tragedy. He searched for the satisfaction he expected to feel from the success, but couldn't find it. After all, he was the reason she had been in danger in the first place.

Opening his eyes, he slowly turned around. She stood at the end of the sofa, a weak smile hovering on her lips as a concerned uncertainty lingered in her eyes. Her heart continued to beat loudly in his ears, but its exaggerated pace had begun to slow.

The sight of her beloved face, flush with life, and the sound of her strong heart should have been enough to reassure Nick that she was indeed all right, but somehow they weren't enough. He needed more. He needed...he wanted the reassurance of touch. He had to feel her warmth against him before he would gain any true solace.

Without a word, he quickly closed the gap between them and pulled Natalie to him, his arms moving around her shoulders. His need was fulfilled when she returned the embrace, her arms sliding around his waist and squeezing him tight, their penetrating heat just what he craved to grant him peace.

With her head resting on his chest, Nick placed a light kiss in her hair before laying his cheek against the chestnut softness. No words passed between them. None were needed. The comfort they found in one another didn't require speech. For now, the contact was enough, the simplicity of a gentle embrace providing all the tranquility they required.

They held on to one another for several long minutes before Natalie raised her head and looked into Nick's face. The love and gratitude in her tender expression were nearly his undoing, the sting of tears suddenly burning his eyes. As he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, an icy finger skirted down his spine. What would he have done if he'd lost her tonight?

The horrifying question darted through his mind as his eternal love for her tightened its hold on his heart. The repulsive thought was almost more than he could tolerate, but it had come so close to realization that its consideration was unavoidable. What would he have done? It was the exact same question he'd asked himself on that terrifying Valentine's Day, and again, the answer was the same. He would have died.

"Don't, Nick." A worried frown darkened Nat's face as she broke the contented silence surrounding them. "Please, don't...not now. What happened...what almost happened tonight, wasn't your fault." Pulling an arm from around his waist, she lifted a soothing hand to his cheek. "Please, don't blame yourself."

His eyes fluttered shut as he relished the silky warmth of her caress. The guilt, however, refused to release him. But even so, as he looked back into her lovely face, he couldn't stop himself from leaning into her gentle touch, his need for the contact stronger than the self-reproach that told him to pull away. "I'm so sorry, Nat."

"No, Nick...don't. I meant every word I said to LaCroix. The threat came from him. He, and he alone, is responsible for what he does. I won't let you punish yourself again for something that wasn't your fault."

The consoling words might as well have fallen on deaf ears as the growing self-condemnation rejected their precious message. Reaching up, Nick removed Natalie's hand from his cheek. He looked at the small hand resting in his and a renewed fear seized him. So fragile, so delicate, so vulnerable. His eyes moved back to her face as a slow sigh of defeat passed his lips. "But if it weren't for me-"

"If it weren't for you," Natalie cut him off in mid-sentence, a kind determination echoing in her soft voice, "I'd be missing something in my life, something...someone very important. What we have...friendship is something to be cherished, Nick. And I do...very much. I would never regret it, and I'll never regret you. Please, believe that."

The words held a meaning far deeper than either one of them was prepared to acknowledge openly, but Nick understood it, nonetheless. Not only did he hear it, he saw it, shining brightly in her eyes. The love was so vibrant he couldn't help but be affected by it.

Without another thought, he lowered his head and captured her lips with his. It was easy, so very easy, to give himself over to the velvety warmth that welcomed his touch.

Slowly, he caressed her satiny mouth, his lips relishing the heated softness as they silently begged for more intimate contact. With a gentle moan, his request was accepted, and she allowed him to taste the forbidden sweetness that lay within. Greedily, he explored the enticing flesh, drinking deeply of the silky ambrosia, letting it calm his restless soul and soothe his troubled mind. But, as always, he couldn't seem to get enough, couldn't get close enough.

With a frustrated groan, he moved the arm that remained around her shoulders so that his hand feathered through the downy tresses at the back of her head, drawing her nearer. As he did so, another moan rose from Nat as her exploration of him grew more urgent. Her hunger all but rivaled his, the arm around his waist tightening its hold, pulling him closer while her mouth gorged on his with an almost desperate need for fulfillment.

He barely heard her whimper of protest when he finally released the temptation of her lips, his desire to experience more of her clouding his otherwise keen senses. The flawless complexion of her cheek was his next target as his mouth traveled over the inviting smoothness, dropping light kisses as it moved. Her jaw briefly received his attention before it was usurped by the shell-like perfection of her ear. A moan of pure pleasure escaped her as he drew the lobe into his mouth and gently suckled. The taste of her skin was more intoxicating than any wine he'd ever drunk, and he was slowly losing himself in the heady sensation, the warning bell a dull sound somewhere very far away in the back of his head.

Another feather-light kiss and his delicate assault delved lower still. The satin column of her neck called to him, and he had no will to deny the summons. His lips casually savored the warm softness as they brushed along the alluring flesh, finally stopping at the base of her throat just above the source of life beating rapidly under the fragile protection of her skin. As his tongue passed his parted lips to sample the inviting pulse, it brushed again his canines, now unnaturally sharp with the hunger throbbing through his body. Almost without his knowing it, the beast had surged to the surface, stealing his composure, endangering Natalie.

The horror of what he'd almost done sobered Nick faster than anything else in the world possible could have, the raw need taking a back seat to the shame that quickly overtook him.

Raising his head slightly, he severed the sensual contact with Nat and closed his eyes as he concentrated on pushing the vampire back beneath the surface. Unsuccessfully, he worked to block out the music of her heart as it brutally pounded her desire in his ears, keeping the lure of his hunger agonizingly close.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. His fangs had retreated back into their hiding place, and he knew the color of his eyes had once again returned to normal. He had control of himself again, if only by the smallest of measures. He'd won another small battle. The same battle he would have to continue to win if he were to keep his promise to Elliot and stay and work toward his redemption.

Moving his hands to Natalie's upper arms, Nick gently pushed her away from him, keeping her at arm's length, but finding it difficult to completely break their connection. His gaze fell first to her mouth, still swollen from his kiss, before moving up to collide with her eyes. The passion continued to smolder in the shimmering depths, along with the love, but these emotions were joined by something more, something deeper.

There was an understanding hovering there, and a deep regard-an understanding of his struggle and a healthy respect for his discipline. It was as if she knew of the silent conflict he'd just been through and told him it didn't matter. She trusted him. She didn't fear him. And as he gleaned this cherished information, he felt his love for her grow stronger.

Amazement held him fast as a tender smile crossed her beautifully flushed face before she ventured to speak, her voice still husky with the lingering passion that brightened her eyes. "You do believe me, don't you?"

"Yes, Nat." Nick, surprisingly, grinned. "I believe you. I believe that you regret having me in your life no more than I regret having you in mine."

Her smile widened with the confession, and his grin grew bigger too, in spite of himself. "Good." Rising up on her toes, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek before stepping a couple of steps away from him. Reluctantly, he let her go.

With her arms crossed over her chest, she regarded him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "So...was there anything you wanted to tell me? Something about Nicholas Knight, maybe? Something about his life here in Toronto?"

"Ah," Nick stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat as he playfully hesitated, his attention falling to the floor as he feigned a bad memory, "it seems there was something I had on my mind, but I can't quite put my finger on it just now. Hmm...I think it had something to do with...ah... Oh yeah, he's decided to stick around for a while. What do you think?" Lifting his head, he pinned her with a serious, almost pleading, stare. "Will that be okay?"

Natalie's eyes never left Nick's as she dropped her arms from her chest and walked back over to him. Stopping less than a body's width from him, she slid two tender fingers down his cheek before they came to rest under his chin. "That'll be more than okay, Mister Knight. Welcome back."

Her touch sent another bolt of awareness shooting through him, and Nick tried to stifle the need. Two close calls in one night were more than enough. He wouldn't risk another one. It took more strength than he thought he had to beat down the instinct to pull her back into his arms. But beat it down he did.

"When did it happen, Nick?" Natalie's voice softened to just above a whisper. "How did it happen? Please, tell me. I really want to know."

As he looked into her lovely face, Nick knew he wouldn't be able to deny her request. It was the very least he could do to thank her for her steadfast support and encouragement, and it still wouldn't be anywhere near enough. It would, however, be difficult to confide to her his weakness-his inability to find the strength on his own to combat the demons that had held him so securely. But he would tell her. He would tell her about Elliot and his visits, and the hope that he'd gained from them. He would even tell her of the crucial part she played in his recovery, and try, somehow, to let her know of the gratitude he held for her unbelievable courage. He would try.

"I want to tell you, Nat. I will tell you. But...it's getting late, and we're both going to be late for work if we don't get a move on." Nick motioned toward the darkness peeking in at them through her picture window.

"All right, you win...for now." Natalie dropped her hand from his face, her expression one of impish warning. "But I expect a full report sometime tonight."

Her cheerful voice delighted Nick's ears much like the delicate jingle of wind chimes being caressed by a gentle summer breeze, the enchanting sound giving him pause. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. He loved seeing her like this.

But... How frail were moments like this? How fleeting? As he looked into her carefree face, an unwanted twinge of fear burrowed its way back into his mind. How long would this last? How long before his nature took from her the joy she relished tonight?

LaCroix. The name intruded on his thoughts with a vengeance. Was he right? Would this all come crashing down around him? It wouldn't be the first time. A sudden panic hit Nick as he thought about the necessity of leaving Natalie alone, unprotected. He was sure he'd gotten through to LaCroix, convinced him of the futility of harming her. His father would not be returning. He was certain of it, but the panic didn't seem to want to let him go.

_Damn._ Silently, he cursed its hold on him. He wouldn't let Natalie see it, not tonight. With that thought in mind, he forced another smile to his lips.

"I promise." Leaning forward, Nick placed a hasty kiss on her forehead. Turning, he walked to the door, but before stepping through it, he cast her another glance. "Would you mind letting Reese and Tracy know that I'm going to be a little late?"

"Late?" A puzzled frown turned her mouth. "But you just said-"

"I know. I just don't want you to be late. I've got a couple of places I need to stop by before I get to work." He raised his eyebrows in another silent request.

"Okay, I'll tell them."

"Oh, and Nat? When I see you later...for lunch? How about one of those protein drinks? You think you can have one ready for me?"

The smile on her face was bright enough to light up the whole city of Toronto, and Nick felt it warm his heart.

Nodding her head, Natalie all but giggled her reply. "Oh, I think I can manage that. Don't you worry about a thing."

With that happy guarantee, Nick left to face the other hurdles he needed to overcome before his return could be complete.

He stared down at the cold stone, feeling overwhelmed and confused.

ELLIOT EDWARD SIMMONS

BELOVED SON

NOV. 23, 199O NOV. 27, 1996

A life that all too briefly brightened our existence now shines brilliantly in heaven.

The words on the tombstone blurred as tears filled his eyes, the pain and guilt reasserting themselves as the bleak finality of the scene before him rammed into his heart. He had to do this, no matter how much it hurt. He had to. This was one of the hurdles he had to overcome, one of the bitter realities he had to face. He'd gotten through the other one, somehow. He would get through this one.

Jacob and Elizabeth had been very happy to see him tonight. They had also been very understanding. Too understanding.

He'd asked their forgiveness for his neglect of them. They said they understood. He'd asked their forgiveness for his neglect of Elliot's funeral. They said they understood. Again, he'd asked their forgiveness for his inability to prevent the tragedy. Again, they told him it wasn't his fault. And as before, he'd watched the raw pain have its way with them. And as before, the shame and guilt had had their way with him.

Friends comforted friends, and he left them with no less a burden on his soul, but with a sense that he had, nevertheless, done them some good. He was their friend. He acted like their friend. And through the blame that continued to haunt him, he gained the reward of that friendship, their comfort, in turn, providing him a small degree of solace.

Raising a hand to his face, Nick caught a stray tear that escaped his eye, his vision clearing some with the loss. He re-read the carving on the stone.

'A life that all too briefly brightened our existence now shines brilliantly in heaven.' '...now shines brilliantly in heaven.'

It was true. There was no doubt. But the knowledge didn't make being here any easier. It still hurt like hell, standing over his young friend's grave, once again, confronting the cold truth of his death, feeling the icy void of his loss.

But Elliot was in heaven. Elliot was happy. And the certainty of it helped to ease the pain. But more than the assurance of Elliot's contentment, there was his love and forgiveness. Both continued to thrive in Nick's heart, and they were what made standing in this place possible, bearable.

Kneeling down beside the recently churned earth, Nick reached out to touch a word on the tombstone. 'Heaven'.

Would he ever find the absolution needed to gain entrance? For that matter, would he even be able to find his way back to the light? Or would he get lost on the way?

Antonio flashed through his mind. Even at death, Tony hadn't gone to the light. His essence, his soul, had somehow survived to find refuge in another body, to take a human life and draw it into the darkness. His evil had prevailed, and another vampire had been born.

An unsettling chill ran down Nick's back. Antonio had said it happened to many. It hadn't happened to Nick. But could it happen to him? It was a question he wished he'd asked Elliot, but he got the impression, even if the boy had known the answer, he wouldn't have confided it to Nick. This was another one of those strengthening uncertainties that he would have to work through on his own. The possibility scared him to death.

With an exhausted sigh, Nick straightened, wiping away the wetness staining his eyes. "I love you, little man. I miss you." The choked whisper threatened to bring the moisture back to his eyes, but he quickly swallowed the impulse as he turned and started toward the Caddy.

As he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his long, black coat, he took a deep breath. These last few weeks had been some of the most agonizing of his long memory. Had they served any real purpose? Could he salvage anything from the torture?

"If it doesn't kill you, it'll make you stronger." He recalled his words to Nat as they sat consoling one another after the capture of the monster who had prayed on the homeless with a flame thrower. Perhaps he had grown a little stronger with this experience. Only time would tell, he supposed.

But in the end, nothing had really changed, because, after all, there still remained the question of his soul.

THE END

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